The Church Lab 2022: Growing at the Heart of Who We Are

photo by Nicola Fioravanti

Between 2013 and 2016, TCL launched and formed its identity in mission and action. We tried different spiritual-growth experiments in different formats, as we still do, yet we also settled into a rhythm of what we now recognize as our dialogue community, Chortle (discipleship), mission and worship. We gained 501(c)3 status and everything!

Between 2016 and 2018, TCL experienced further stabilization, growth in the depth and breadth of our experiments as well as the time we were able to dedicate to the ministry. A part-time pastoral assistant came on to help with bookkeeping and communications.

In 2019, we began to use lessons gleaned from our work and share with other faith leaders and communities.

Between 2020-2021, we experienced growth in unforeseen ways, helping 11 faith communities across the state to reimagine service during the pandemic, in addition to working with 2 subscribing Lab Partner pastors and various other faith communities and leaders along the way. We wrote a curriculum, hired and trained a team of pastoral facilitators. The pastoral assistant’s role evolved into creatively nurturing and connecting our community, from dialoguers to donors. He also developed the social justice block to our newsletter and evolved our blog content to include a wider array of topics and perspectives related to our mission. We pivoted and pivoted and pivoted in response to pandemic needs. Our board grew significantly more active. We had our first 3 interns - each from a different seminary, and each harnessed their own gifts to perpetuate our mission while learning from it as well. Carrie worked to grow into expanded administrative responsibilities and to foster a work culture that aligns with TCL’s mission, and she did so with 7+ contractors in addition to interns.

And now here we are in 2022. Phew! And what shall this year be all about?

If 2020-21 were about pivoting to the pandemic and flexing to catch up to our operational and project-based growth,

2022 is about nurturing the heart of our mission,

further smoothing out a healthy administrative framework so as to make sure central attention stays and deepens in the realm of our dialogue community, discipleship, pastoral care, worship and mission.

It is about resourcefully making sure Carrie’s and our contractors’ time management are testaments to our mission by prioritizing spiritual groundedness, sincerity of heart in our ministry and nurturing spaces for the on-the-frontier creativity into which our mission compels us.

We often get asked questions about what growth means for TCL. This word - “growth” - in ministry has for too long implied growth in numbers. While TCL is deeply grateful to have recently been experiencing this type of growth in our own grassroots way, the heart of our mission calls for growth to be defined by depth and authenticity. Furthermore, we are called to evolution through continuous learning, experimentation, curiosity around spiritual growth, by tinkering with operational sustainability perpetuating this type of growth-by-depth mission instead of holding it hostage like some traditional models threaten these days (e.g., increased attendance or death: eek!). Then it means sharing with our neighbors what these less-paved or unpaved paths have taught us that might also help them with their missions.

At times this involves scaling up to involve more people, though simply as a strategic byproduct of the central mode of growth: go deep, and sincerely. We do of course hope we will continue to invite in more people to the work of our mission, but quantity is not a metric we are worried with, whether up or down or sideways. That is because we do not ever wish to find ourselves drifting our mission to a place where people become numbers or in which growth first means a quantity over the heart of our mission: innovative paths to spiritual growth. This is especially because we recognize spiritual growth happens through transformative experiences, which we believe are most impactfully fostered through highly relational, ongoing, small group settings, whether for dialoguers or faith leaders or anyone else.

It is with all this in mind that our 2022 metrics and goals center on what for years we have framed our annual silent vision retreat by: WMACS. That is to say, with our thoughts and actions both, we will make decisions by asking if a particular action will perpetuate and/or make our mission Whole-hearted, Mission-centric, Action-oriented, Creative and Spirit-led.

This commits our ministry to continued flexibility by our very DNA, allowing God to unfold our various next steps by pressing our attention most centrally on earnestly serving our mission on any given scale, with all our hearts, with trust in God’s guidance.

I can’t wait to discover with you where the Spirit leads this year!

Thanks be to God for our TCL community and all we are learning together, for the ways we get to both create change and find ourselves changed by God and by one another.

-Pastor Carrie

Sharing Reflections & Prayers from TCL's Interfaith Vigil for Ukraine

photo by Tina Hartung

In light of events in Ukraine which affect our world and each of us in different ways, members of The Church Lab’s interfaith dialogue community gathered for an informal time of inter-religious vigil, bringing prayers, meditations, Scripture, poems, and whatever we were moved to lift up during this time. With permission, TCL is sharing a few of the words offered up from members of our interfaith community to further your own reflections and prayers.  

Shehechiyanu (שֶׁהֶחֱיָֽינוּ), a meditation on this moment, recited by one of our dialoguers with a Jewish background:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יהוה, אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, שֶׁהֶחֱיָֽינוּ וְקִיְּמָנוּ וְהִגִּיעָנוּ לַזְּמָן הַזֶּה

Baruch Ata Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Haolam, shehechiyanu, v’kiy’manu, v’higianu lazman hazeh.

Blessed are You Eternal Spirit who has given us life, sustained us and allowed us to arrive in this moment.

A prayer shared from one of our Bahá'í dialoguers:

    O Thou Provider! The dearest wish of this servant of Thy Threshold is to behold the friends of East and West in close embrace; to see all the members of human society gathered with love in a single great assemblage, even as individual drops of water collected in one mighty sea; to behold them all as birds in one garden of roses, as pearls of one ocean, as leaves of one tree, as rays of one sun.

    Thou art the Mighty, the Powerful, and Thou art the God of strength, the Omnipotent, the All-Seeing.

—‘Abdu’l-Bahá

Our Pagan dialoguer shares a portion of a prayer from the author, teacher & speaker, Mat Auryn:

“I call to Mighty Hekate,

She of Many Names and Many Faces

She whom Zeus son of Kronos honors above all

She who is the saffron-veiled keyholder,

She who holds Kronos’ chains,

She who wears his crown, and his scepter

She who is the Anima Mundi, the World Soul

She who is Pammetor, Mother of All

She who is Dadouchos,

whose torches have the power to slay

the very Giants and Titans themselves

She who is Adamantaea,

The Unconquerable One

She who is Damnodamia,

The Subduer of Subduers

She who is Pasimedeonsa, The All-Protecting

She who is Soteira, the Savioress

Lend your protection and safety

to the people of Ukraine”

Our dialoguer identifying as a Jesus follower shared this timely prayer for Lent in relation to Ukraine, and current events from the author of This Here Flesh & creator of @blackliturgies, Cole Arthur Riley:

"Lent is the forty-day liturgical season that embodies a longing for liberation as well as a commitment to bear witness to the suffering of the world. In many Christian traditions, Lent is a season to choose a desire or practice to give up, as a kind of sacrifice. But we can also consider taking up a new practice. What are practices we can commit to in solidarity with those suffering? How will we bear witness to the dust? Lent is about existing in the pain of the world, not rushing past it toward some kind of spiritual toxic positivity. There's a heaviness in the air. I suspect you feel it too. In Lent, we are reminded we are free to say so. Free to grieve. Come, let us journey together."

A breath prayer

INHALE:

I won't rush from grief.

EXHALE:

I make space for the ashes. 

One of our dialoguers from the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community shares this sincere prayer of the Promised Messiah Mirza Ghulam Ahmad of Qadian.

The Terrible, Magical "I Don't Know."

Photo by Jan Kopřiva

Rev. Carrie Graham is the founding pastor of The Church Lab.

"I don't know."

This must be one of the most valuable phrases in the English language. Or any language.

For many, including myself, this phrase connotes humility. It can be a nod to God's control or sovereignty. In some cases, "I don't know" can be a way of leaning into our faith commitment, and all that may be bigger or wiser than ourselves. 

However, for good reason, 2022 may not feel like a year in which cozying up to the phrase "I don't know" feels nice in any way. 

Have we not suffered through enough explicit uncertainty in our lives?

Why would the phrase "I don't know" be celebrated, when it seems this phrase has been held over our heads for 2 years and counting?

There is a harsh reality to the hardship that constant detours and pivoting have brought us, and the callousness it seems to show around our own exhaustion around it. 

Yet there is another kind of "I don't know." It's the "I don't know" of dreaming. It's the "I don't know" that answers the question, "What shall I do today?" after an enduring season of hardship, whether in illness or captivity or a job whose routine is so seared in the back of your brain, you'd give your right arm to get rid of structure for a moment and say, "I don't know what the day holds." There's the magical freedom that "I don't know" can carry.

Both personally and professionally, this is the time of year when I uphold traditions of reflection and vision for what's next. I take time to pray and listen to how God might be guiding TCL to focus on its mission in the coming year. I create images and metaphors and share them on this blog and with my board. (Last year it was a ship whose parts were all labeled with different aspects of who we are and how we were focusing on our vision for 2021.)  I make decisions based on those focal points along the way. It checks all my boxes of wishing to be spiritually grounded and super productive at the same time. I like to match it with our 1, 3, 5, and 10-year plans, which we review annually. Our board is forming a Strategic Plan right now; it would be satisfying to match it to that work as well. It is all very tidy work.

But we know that spiritual work does not always fit into our boxes, and if it does, we should be wary of who we have made God.

This week, when it came time to do that aforementioned prayerful work of discernment for the year, one immediate certainty came up, perhaps ironically: 

I don't know.

I do know many things. I know TCL's mission. I know TCL is exploring innovative paths to spiritual maturity, helping the Church find her future. I know that we expanded to full-time work two years ago, as a pandemic began, as we are going strong in the difference we wish to make in this world, and in accordance with the way we believe God is guiding us to do so. I know this is a steady force guiding us into and through 2022. I'm so grateful.

I know our activities and community is strong: our dialogues, Chortle, the social or worshipful or missional experiments we lace into our community offerings along the way, our penpals, our internships, our board, our donors, our work helping faith communities in the state of Texas, our work with supporting pastors and helping them innovate, and still more beyond this. I am amazed at the caliber of people in our orbit, through these activities.

I know there are good things ahead. I know TCL's community is tight, strong, integrity-filled, connected. I know TCL people are peacemakers, bridge-builders, life-long learners. We are risk-takers. We are faith-filled in a variety of ways, and we are educated by learning from one another's faith commitments and practice. We have grown to be able to share our experimental lessons with faith communities far beyond our own. 

I know I am beyond grateful for this community.

Thanks be to God.

Finally, I know that I am about to embark on a long-awaited Sabbatical for 6 weeks, in which I will engage in intentional spiritual reflection throughout. 

With this in mind, I say in the best of terms, I do not know. 

I do not know what I will learn from God or about myself or a 2022 vision for TCL while I am spending this intentional spiritual time away, beginning at the end of next week, which is still in our very beginnings of the year. I do not know how the world may look different after breathing in some fresh air for a bit. I am excited to find out. I am grateful for being afforded the time to do so, so that I might serve and lead with a whole heart and a clear mind. What a gift indeed to be able to honor my spiritual journey this way, and to know that it will benefit TCL greatly.

And so it is with joy and anticipation that I share with you, instead of a super official and unique-to-2022 vision on this particular January: While I know the steadiness of who we are and that we are carrying that strongly into 2022, I do not yet know the focal point or image of the year. It seems clear to me now that presuming to establish that focal point just before, rather than just after, a Sabbatical, would be more myopic than what I hope to give TCL's 2022.

As such, I say proudly here in January, I do not know. 

I am excited to find out more about the specific contours of this year for TCL, as I embark on my first mini-Sabbatical for 6 weeks. 

I am excited to come back and share whatever degrees of mysteries or clarity I encounter during this time. I am excited to share about the unexpected adventures that will come up, which I would not know to write about here. 

I do pray they relate to safe and smooth experiences, and appreciate those prayers and thoughts from you, as you're able.

I am very excited for the ways this will more meaningfully shape TCL's 2022 than what my pre-Sabbatical perspective might stretch to suppose in this here and now. 

I am beyond excited for how our TCL community will continue to thrive, both during and beyond my Sabbatical, and I can't wait to serve y'all in our enduring mission, along with specific focal points that may surface during and beyond my Sabbatical for this 2022.

May the mysteries already presented to us in 2022 not all be weighty with the pandemic and detours. For the burdens that reside here for us anyway, may we continue to be there for one another, to always bear the harsher uncertainties together. May we lift one another up and hold hope on behalf of one another if we take turns being weary.

May you, too, find yourself celebrating uncertainties that bring you a sense of freedom and allow you to dream, allow you to encounter your faith with fresh eyes and an increasingly whole heart, as we journey alongside one another each step of the way. I am certain this is my prayer for each of you, and for our community, as we venture into this new year.

With gratitude and anticipation of God's work…and more to share in March!

Carrie

OLLIE!

Ollie, who has been working with TCL for a few years -important ones!- has made it possible for us to deepen and widen our mission here at TCL. At first, Ollie took on tasks like bookkeeping, blog curating, and communicating messages I wanted expressed in our weekly mailchimp. Even when Ollie met challenges, or even just did not prefer to do the tasks before him, he persisted. He found ways to be resilient. He gathered new tools; he got resourceful. These characteristics are the mark of the kind of faith leaders we need in this era of change in and around our religious institutions. People who believe in a mission and will open themselves up for discomfort and growth in service to something they believe serves God and all our neighbors. 

Over time, Ollie invented our wonderful social justice block. He honed his interview skills as he found his rhythm with blog curation. Ollie shifted from a visitor at dialogues to a vital participant in our community. He built friendships and bridges he didn't expect, and that made our community thrive all the more. In the last couple of years, Ollie's contribution to community care has been paramount for all of us. His pastoral and editorial skills both have helped TCL meet this challenging pandemic season, harnessing our experimental nature to care creatively, undeterred by challenges which might invite us to sink. Ollie knew TCL could instead rise to the occasion, and he contributed with that conviction at heart. We have all benefited from this in TCL's community, directly and otherwise. 

Most tender to my heart is that before Ollie joined TCL's work, I mostly toiled alone as I tried to grow our mission. Ollie has become beloved to our community, and in addition to being beloved to me, he is my right hand. He is my teammate on an absolutely wild journey. 

There are many aspects of who Ollie is that made it possible for me to trust him so implicitly with TCL's mission in his work and presence with us. He is enjoyable to be around; he is heartfelt and sincere in how he navigates the world. He is insightful and open-minded. He is compassionate and a lifelong learner, even when it is difficult to stretch into compassion and empathy of the diverse perspectives we embrace here. Most precious to me in a work companion has been and continues to be his integrity. Ollie is committed to living a life of integrity, and that has allowed me to both fully trust Ollie's work and freely enjoy Ollie's good -and fun!- company. Ollie integrates his wisdom and faith into all aspects of life, professional and personal; he stands as an example of someone to never take for granted, especially as a friend and neighbor.

Ollie is not saying goodbye to TCL; he is still an active part of our community. But his role with TCL on a weekly basis is changing, and that is why we are commemorating with thanks and farewells to his role as we have known it. Three years may not seem like much to some, but when it changes the way an organization can move and breathe in this world, every one of those days counts big. 

Thank you for each and every one of those days, Ollie. I cannot wait to do more dialoguing and facilitating with you, to share your gifts with our community in new ways and to continue to enjoy your good company, and to know I'll be a better person because of you in our lives, in my life. 

With immense gratitude,

Carrie

Off We Go

Hello Dear Friends,

Three and a half years ago, I was graduating from seminary without a church job to start. My denomination and I had decided together that there wasn’t a place for non-traditional ministry within my conference, despite my clear call to just that. The resources, the structures, the pathways, the mentors: all the support was geared to traditional parish ministry. I’m called to pastoral work, but I’m not called to a parish.

And when I look around, it seems that the ‘parish’ model for church is crumbling in front of us. Although I think the reasons why are good ones, the reality is that unless we actively imagine and road-test new models, we won’t have anything to replace it with, no matter why or how fast it happens. So how lucky I was that I happened to go out for fried chicken with my friend Carrie Graham. And how lucky it was that she and the board of directors of The Church Lab had just decided they were ready to hire on some part-time help. And how lucky it was that TCL’s goals and offerings aligned with exactly what I thought I needed to learn. Or maybe it wasn’t luck. Maybe it was God’s providence.

Here, three and a half years later, the role I have with TCL is about to make a big shift. I’ve learned, as Carrie says, ‘how the sausage is made’ when it comes to non-traditional ministry. That is to say, I’ve learned about the demand for technology and the need for flexibility and the need to raise enough money each December to keep the doors open starting in January. I’ve learned how to create a healthy, dynamic, reliable culture; one wherein trust is paramount, boundaries are respected, and genuine friendships are built. I’ve learned pastoral care and worship leadership, how to integrate social justice, and how to use what felt like a million online platforms! I was offered the opportunity to grow myself and my leadership capacity as the organization also grew exponentially.

Starting in 2022, I’ll move from being Carrie’s pastoral assistant to being someone she can call on to step in and lead dialogue or write a blog when she needs to. I’ll also move into a consulting role, one I’ve been nurtured and prepared for all along. I’ll use the creativity, flexibility, imagination, road-testing, and knowledge I’ve gained to innovate spiritual growth in those who participate with us and to help the church I love find her future. Hopefully, as the old models deteriorate, something we have yet to imagine will emerge. Something built on true bridge-building; something flexible and stronger for being so. I hope I can be a part of that.

I’ll still be around TCL. TheChurch Lab is in my heart, especially since I know how the sausage is made. I’ll be sharing my resources so that the doors will continue to open each January. I’ll be attending dialogue every other Monday as often as my new job will allow. And I’ll continue to do my best to support all those still deeply inside as they carry TCL to whatever its next level is.

Thank you to Carrie, to this year’s shoulder-to-the-grindstone BOD, to all the people I dialogue with (whom I love), and to all TCL’s financial and prayer supporters. We’re all making it happen. I couldn’t be more grateful for the last three and a half years and to God for making it happen.

Blessings,

Ollie

The Church Lab on Social Media!

The Church Lab has a renewed presence on popular social media platforms these days.

We would love for you to join, friend, and follow us to keep up with everything we have going on!

The Work and Impact of The Church Lab

The Church Lab’s mission is exploring innovative paths to spiritual maturity, helping the Church find her future. This statement accurately reflects all we do and gives those of us internally the point of light upon which to keep our ideas centered. Those new to the idea of TCL regularly ask what that means, exactly. What are the specific activities we create and engage in to further spiritual development in all people and God’s work in the Church itself?

Dash Kees, in their capacity as our 2020-21 intern, created a quick visual site that answers those questions for those of you new to our organization, as well as those of you who have been around a while but may not realize the breadth of our reach or the ways we have grown. The last three years have shown not only the need for our work, but the capacity our organization has to adapt and innovate when conditions both demand and allow. In response to the pandemic, an ice storm, numerous natural and world disasters, the burdens placed on our collective spiritual psyches, and all of our financial supporters, The Church Lab has had many invitations to rise to the needs of the occasion. We are poised and ready to respond in new and creative ways as we all move into 2022 and beyond.

Please peruse Dash’s cool online cards. Read the testimonials below. And get ready to join TCL in creating spiritual lives and faith communities equipped to meet all that awaits us.

TCL Testimonials

Rev. Rob Mueller, Divine Redeemer Presbyterian Church:

“The Church Lab brings to my life as a pastor an incredible richness in understanding how to converse with people of varying viewpoints, how to create the kind of space within which I can be honest and straightforward, I can be vulnerable, and I can take risks. I can take risks in ideas; I can take risks in sharing my own vulnerabilities with colleagues in ways that are just not simply possible in the normal day-to-day operations as a pastor. The Church Lab has created a brave space for me and has helped me learn how to create a brave space for my congregants and for my friends and colleagues in ministry. Without brave space we cannot completely unfold ourselves into the people that God calls us to be.”

Bedxeli Amaya, atheist dialoguer from Puebla City, Mexico:

“When [Carrie and I ] met we started talking about atheism. When [she] said atheists were also welcome, I said, “Really? So, I need to be there.” When we spoke on the subject of faith and spirituality, I felt [Carrie] could understand. It was the first time a person of faith was so open to hear me, to accept and try to understand all of what I thought about religion.”

Rev. Amy Meyer, First Presbyterian Church, Elgin:

“I’ve had opportunities to be in dialogue with people who I would otherwise have never met, to have even deeper relationships with people who I would otherwise have never known. This has been a time over the past years that I have been able to plug in creatively, to brainstorm with other creative people, and to come up with ideas that I would have never thought of on my own. The Church Lab has had a tremendous impact on me as a leader and as an individual.”

Eileen Drake, conservative Christian and long-term dialoguer:

“I have truly benefited from interfaith dialogue and Carrie's facilitation. I used to be debative when I talked with people about things I felt strongly about. Now, because of my interfaith dialogue experience, I am able to listen with compassion and share with others without a "me against them" mentality. It has been refreshing to be in a space where everyone respects each other and cares for one another. This speaks to the "honoring and respecting each individual" culture Carrie creates. My fellow dialoguers have become my friends and it is awesome to be part of each other's lives. ❤”

Qamar Zafar, Ahmadiyya Muslim dialogue participant:

“I keep coming back because I feel there is still more learning to be done. There have been changes in my communication at work, with my family, and with strangers. I appreciate the moments in dialogue when I express a thought or feeling and the follow-up questions from others indicate that what I said was heard and made an impact. Those are my favorite dialogue moments.”

Jonathan Freeman of 1st Presbyterian Church Austin, Reimagining Service participant and Pastoral Resident:

I have nothing but deep appreciation and admiration for what The Church Lab is doing. As someone who happens to have death and resurrection at the crux of my faith, I believe that constant discernment around entirely new paths for discipleship is a vital and undervalued aspect of our calling. In many undeniable and even necessary ways, the Church is indeed dying right now. But luckily, The Church Lab is engaged in the loving and faithful work of resurrection.

Curtis Doss, a practitioner of the Baha’i tradition and participant in dialogues:

“We’re all learning and we’re sharing with each other on the common issue of being human…which isn’t easy, especially if we’re angry at each other! In Church Lab there’s a lot of good fellowship, laughter, and an understanding that we’re here together sharing our [personal] experience, rather than trying to represent the millions of other people who practice our tradition.”

The Ground Rules

Ollie Jarvis is The Church Lab’s Pastoral Assistant. He writes this month about the ground rules that make TCL’s every-two-weeks dialogues a fertile ground for relationship-building and spiritual growth. He was inspired to write based on his participation in challenging conversations with people he loves but disagrees with.

In today’s fraught and uncertain times, one thing is clear: we do not agree with one another. When we hear something that runs counter to what we already believe, the new information often lands outside our ability to take it in and tends to further harden the opinions we already hold. Sometimes, we don’t agree in fundamental ways. Our beliefs are deep and can point to things that are core to our being. 

When I’m talking to someone who’s never heard of TCL and tell them it’s centered around interfaith dialogue, they sometimes nod approvingly and move right on. One reason may be that they don’t realize that the discussions that occur during dialogue aren’t simply about the differences in religious traditions. The reality is, what we are doing in talking about a given topic among persons with varying faith traditions is exposing our deepest, most core selves to one another. What we are really doing is learning to care about someone with whom we deeply disagree.

As Carrie, our facilitator, likes to say, we play with fire every other Monday evening as we enter into fellowship together. Doing so successfully takes masterful guidance and a common understanding about how we will move through what we say out loud. Here are the ground rules we use to frame our dialogues:

• Our facilitator doesn’t have an agenda. She doesn’t bring her own opinion to bear; she will not sum up the exchange into a neat bow at the end.

• Our facilitator is everyone’s advocate. She wants anyone who cares to speak to have a chance to do so; she will help us repair any unintentional hurt that may occur to our hearts. 

• We speak only about faith traditions that are present in the room with us.

• We only talk on behalf of our personal experience, not our entire faith tradition. There are as many shades of expression as there are people, and a wide range at that. We don’t take what others say as representative of everyone of that faith.

• There is no proselytizing when we are gathered for dialogue. We are free to speak about this value openly, but we suspend its practice. No one tries to convince anyone that their own belief (about anything!) is superior to others’. No one can be there to win.

• We seek to understand before being understood. This is the bottom line: we turn to wonder; we listen carefully; we yearn for a clear sense of what others are expressing over trying to express our own perspective.

It’s hard enough to maintain these parameters for two hours twice a month when everyone has previously agreed upon them! It’s even more difficult when we are engaging in an exchange with a faceless person on social media or with a family member whom we love but whose mind we desperately want to change. Not everyone is ready to dialogue, sometimes even ourselves! For the sake of our emotional health and in some cases the relationship itself, sometimes the best call is to suspend the exchange for the time being.

We have found, however, that the practice of exercising these muscles in dialogue allows us to carry new skills out into the world with hope. So feel free to try them on your own, or reach out to see if joining dialogues on Monday evenings would interest you. Either way, you may be surprised at the shift in your perspective over time as you practice a search for understanding those with whom you disagree, even when doing so means you both live with the difference.

Negotiating Care: Rabbi Neil Blumofe

Neil Blumofe serves as the Senior Rabbi of Congregation Agudas Achim in Austin, Texas.  He has smicha from JTS and the Academy for Jewish Religion - Los Angeles, and cantorial investiture from JTS. He is a deft improviser, schooled in the dynamics of jazz performance. In his studies, he is interested in how music informs our cultural, national, and religious identities.   

As your community transitioned online, did you try unique things? What worked? What did you learn?

We did a full pivot because we hadn’t been doing anything online, certainly not recording or filming our Sabbath services, so it was all unexplored territory. We really tried to have an engaging service, using the chat in a way that would help people feel that they were a part of the service in real time. It was a challenge encouraging people that this [shift] was okay and was something that they could successfully do. Sustaining it over months in terms of Zoom fatigue, especially as the worst of the pandemic lifted. It’s hard to maintain a relevance that feels exciting to people. We’re doing the best we can as we start slowly gathering in person. Everything has been layers of discovery.

In what ways did you see your community be resourceful and creative in meeting needs? In what way did their faith rise to the occasion?

One way has been with inreach work; helping see each other and responding, whether that means addressing loneliness or something specific like food or a job or getting a vaccine. We created small support groups that get together to provide support to each other. God has moved in this way. People feel that their needs are being taken seriously by those around them. That is something we had always talked about but never done, that’s been really great. 

This has also been an opportunity to imagine what comes next and how to get there. Trusting that resources will arise as opposed to putting all your eggs in one basket. I feel that has been one thing about this period that’s important.

Are there any unexpected lessons your community or you as a faith leader learned?

We can’t take our community for granted. There are a lot of forces working on us to pull us apart, antagonize us against each other, politically and otherwise. When people are scared and alone they may try to connect the dots in a way that may not be rational to someone else. The ability that we as faith leaders have to be an absolute good in people’s lives is something that I don’t take for granted and has become more clear to me.

What do you think people of faith need to be especially mindful of as we emerge from the pandemic?

That people are in very different places. I’ve seen it said that we’re all in the same storm but in different boats. I preached on that back in April and I feel that acutely. We don't really know what is going on with people as they adjust. There has been damage and casualties; people don't know how to talk to each other; others may have excuses why they don't come anymore. We’ll gingerly explore how to reclaim the joys of sacred community.

I hope that as we emerge, we would continue to notice when we are going a hundred miles a minute. That we slow down and take time to check in about those radical concerns that people have, to lift each other up, to have patience with someone who is in a different place and struggling. I hope we retain these best practices that we’ve begun to develop. 

What do you hope that your faith community will remember about this season in five or ten years?

The opportunity to do better, to prioritize our lives in terms of what we do. To reflect on “who I am” and “what do I need in my life;” to consider what causes joy or contentment and connection as opposed to “I need to make my money.” I think there’s a real opportunity to dial that back a little. And, ironically, not to rely on the internet so much, in order to live a more fulfilling and flourishing life. I hope the patterns will have been interrupted.

Just curious, how did the forced isolation affect your personal spiritual life or your relationship with God or yourself?

I’ll tell you, my kids were home and my wife, so we had lots of activity. All of our schedules overlap various parts of the day; we have a new puppy along with our dog. I wasn’t lonely, I was actually fatigued. There were a lot of interruptions working there, so I spent a lot of time at the synagogue, working to take care of the needs within the community as they arose.

Trying to find the balance of caring for myself and others allowed me to see how fragile everything really is. To try to do things not by quantity but rather to make genuine connections with people. I realized I was pushing myself at a pace that was too much. So I took a month off that was really needed because I felt depleted. There is still a lot to be done before everything is solved and I wanted to be as fresh as possible. Demands on me as a faith leader were exponentially greater during the pandemic than prior to it. We built a technological base from scratch; helping people negotiate their various situations; the vast number of zoom meetings and presentations I didn’t want to miss. I’m shifting some of that this year in light of self-preservation. 

You didn’t ask, but what did I do for that month? I put my tent in my car and camped as many places as I could between here and Washington state. Just me by myself. My family understood that I needed to reset, to not have a schedule. It felt like a spiritual recharge, both for myself but also as a model for people in my community. Whatever boat we’re in, we have to make it the best boat possible.

Right Now

Rev. Carrie Graham is the pastor and dialogue facilitator of The Church Lab.

Dear God,

Right now I’m sitting in a quiet room in my home. My dog snores beside me. A cup of warm tea and a laptop, my phone, a prayer book, a graphic novel, gifts from my nieces and nephews surround me. On my run this morning, as the sun rose, I exchanged greetings with friendly neighbors. I’ll have fresh food for lunch today and walk my dog along safe, sunny sidewalks this afternoon.

Right now there are girls in Afghanistan who were not even alive yet on 9/11, and they are unsure of their ability to go to school anymore. There are men clinging to US Air Force planes taking off from the Kabul airport. There are US veterans who spent years of their lives watching this unfold, with heartstrings and memories and investments laid bare. There are families afraid to open the door to their homes, lest they be recognized as friendly to Americans and killed. There are Afghan-Americans who cannot get a hold of their relatives in Afghanistan because of downed cell phone towers. There is fear, fear, heartbreak, fear, unknowns enveloping the situation.

Right now there are people who were without power in Haiti before an earthquake hit. Now they have no power and are short on water supply. There is a terrible storm on the way. There is rubble to sift through, and reminders of how this has gone before.

Right now there are friends and neighbors and relatives on ventilators or waiting for hours to get infusions to help them breathe properly. Children are filling up Texas Children’s in Houston.

Right now healthcare workers are not just exhausted and burned out from the work, but also from the trauma and emotion of caring for the pandemic’s second round, which brings not only feelings of compassion fatigue but also for many frustration, anger, resentment, along with grief.

Right now there are people fleeing lack of safety in their countries and choosing wildly unsafe routes or death instead of staying in all that is most familiar to them. That is how dangerous their homes have become. They’d rather leave them forever, leave all material possessions behind. All they can do is hope for basic needs getting met, basic safety being felt for them and/or their children again one day. They choose converting from people with a home to people with nowhere to belong to. And many of them are sleeping at or near US borders.

Do I soak in gratitude that I represent the result of veterans’ work, of generations of my family’s work, as I sit here with multiple degrees and a reasonable expectation of safety today and for the foreseeable future? Yes. Yes yes yes.

Do I recognize that the circumstances and location of my birth in this world plays a role in my safety and security that just is, in the same that it just isn’t for others born in other circumstances, in other locations? Yes.

And so do I choose to ignore that millions of my sisters and brothers are, in this very moment, experiencing desperation, fear, danger, illness, oppression, hunger, as I type a post onto a social media platform with bare feet?

It feels like Jesus himself is tugging at my heart.

Praying for Your Peace which surpasses understanding for the little girl in Afghanistan tonight. For your cousin on the ventilator. For nourishment of body and soul to be with the Haitian, to be with those leaving Honduras. For the Dad to exhale who has a little boy at Texas Children’s. For the veteran to have support and connection and bolstering for her or his spirits. For the families separated by downed cell phone towers, covid visitation policies, smugglers or policy. For the Moms of the soldiers headed to Kabul right now.

With an overwhelming amount of suffering, loving God, may those of us celebrating health and peace know that we enjoy it because other nameless neighbors have helped us have it. And may You move us with great focus and clarity -don’t let us get paralyzed! – to be Your hands and feet for our neighbors near and far, to act on their behalf as Your Word instructs us. Help us do, dear Lord. Help us start somewhere and trust Your Guidance in so doing.

Amen.

Go! Be the Church!

Julie Hagen is a second-career M.Div. student at Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington D.C. and serves as Program Manager for the Office of Strategic Initiatives. Julie is a United Methodist with a background in corporate sales, non-profit management, and communications/marketing.

The last thing my Sunday school leader in Dallas said to me before I moved to Washington, D.C. in 2016 was, “Go! Be the Church.” At that point, I hadn’t discerned a call to seminary, nor did I think much about the theological implications of his statement. 

Now, as Board Chair for The Church Lab and a faith leader who is also deeply interested in how we connect more fully to each other and to God, it’s a lot easier to imagine what being the Church means. Last weekend the TCL Board and staff gathered for our annual retreat to reflect on the past year and to continue the strategic planning process. Our gathering, like much of the past 18 months, did not go as planned. What was designed as an in-real-life retreat turned into an extended Zoom call. I give thanks to each person who attended it, and can’t even explain how grateful I am for Carrie, Ollie, and our intern Julia for spending so much time preparing. As we ended on Saturday evening exhausted, we felt empowered, confident, and energized. I realize that sounds almost too good to be true, but you see, TCL’s innovative culture thrives in this environment. 

We approved a mission-centric budget that will continue to strengthen the organization operationally and have a strategic plan plan to implement over the next several months. We are continuing to identify candidates for the TCL Board and sharing how TCL is making a difference by building spiritual bridges through interfaith dialogue. Most importantly, though, we have tightened our bonds with each other. 

The TCL mission is twofold: “exploring innovative paths to spiritual maturity” and “helping the Church find her future.” I am grateful to walk on this path with the TCL community as we move into the future...together.

Spiritual Growth During Social Isolation: Imam Rizwan Khan and the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community

Imam Rizwan Khan serves as a Missionary of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community. Under the direction and guidance of the spiritual system of leadership, known as Khilafat (Caliphate), of the worldwide Ahmadiyya Muslim Community. Imam Rizwan Khan has dedicated his life to serving Islam and spreading its message of love and peace.

Was there anything unusual that arose as your community transitioned into the new forms of practice (online; outside) at the beginning of the pandemic?

A lot of our practice is defined by our scriptures to be done in a very specific way, which has been true since the very inception of Islam. To make changes under these conditions was new. One of the basic precepts of daily prayer is that its done shoulder to shoulder. That creates the brotherhood and sisterhood, and the proximity also contributes to the solidarity of the community. Islam is flexible, so it adjusted. This was the first time the prayers have been practiced with distance between us.

Also, there are certain congregational worships that are done only in the mosque. Friday prayers, for instance, are obligatory and always at a mosque. Because there is no ordained clergy, family members can be a leader of that prayer service. This is the first time that families were leading these prayers with the Arabic, delivering a sermon, reciting the verses themselves, in their homes.

How did you handle pastoral care?

You just can’t do that over Zoom. Families planned very small weddings. Interestingly, we encourage and prefer that anyway. There is a correlation between the size and expense of a large wedding and how likely it is for that marriage to fail. Materialism is discouraged in Islam; it’s not good for a community or a marriage. It was a blessing and surprise because those who got married during the pandemic started off their life together on a better financial footing.

Funerals were more difficult to maintain rules. A funeral is something that people feel compelled to attend. We had more people arrive for funeral prayers than we wanted, but we just did our best to maintain social distancing and do as much outside as we could. As far as those who got sick, the doctors within our community called on them to make sure everyone was being looked after.

How did you sense God moving and providing for your community? How did you see your community’s faith rise to the occasion?

For me, a time of separation from others, a time for reflection, was unique. Isolation is found in many faith traditions as a search for God. It was an invaluable time. Spiritually I feel I benefited a lot – personal reflection, individual worship. I noticed this in the larger community, as well. A spiritual awakening, especially during the fasting and prayers during the month of Ramadan.

It was a silver lining. It is hard for me to reconcile myself with how positive that aspect of the experience was along with the negative of what was happening in the larger society. We all had the chance to ask, “Who am I?” “What am I when you strip everything away?”

How did the apart time affect your community’s sense of solidarity? How did you maintain a sense of the whole?

Islam puts a lot of focus on social reinforcement. There is a value in meeting in person shaking hands, standing alongside. So that sense of community definitely did suffer. During the lockdown, a disconnect did happen. You can’t make that same connection online. So, the extroverts involved themselves more in text conversations and reaching out to others virtually, because there is a real absence there: something missing that we are trying to make up for through these other means. A lot of people felt that slow burn of loneliness. They had to balance their need to get out of the house with the risk involved in doing that. Even I, an introvert, only noticed when we first started regathering for meals and prayers how much I missed what had been gone.

What do you think people of faith need to be especially mindful of as we emerge from the pandemic?

There is one point specific to the Ahmadiyya community, because we have one worldwide leader. He has been reminding us during this time that injustice is rising all over the world to the point where things are becoming very fragile, and the future is uncertain. A large-scale calamity seems almost an inevitability. We have always been asked to turn away from materialism and the grind toward spirituality. It has been eye-opening for members of our community to see how unstable the worldwide economy is. Everybody can see that the world is not headed in a good direction, and we must remind ourselves to turn toward God.

What are your hopes and fears about what to retain or change going forward?

On the ground, the virtual communication. We hadn’t done that much before and we’re definitely going to retain that to the degree that they are beneficial. These resources were always there, we now see the advantages.

As far as the other changes, how we approach life, our thinking, I hope that does continue. Because when we are in a state of security, there is a different type of thinking. It seems like a different world from even five years ago. That maturity we have gained just having gone through the political instability, the economic instability, that is what teaches wisdom. This is learned through the rigors of life. We can see a broad perspective that takes the world into account and is more aware.

What do you hope your community will remember about this season in five to ten years?

I think of huge changes that happened before, like before and after World War I and World War II. When these vast changes happen, the world is never really the same afterwards. So, I hope ten years from now, that when we look back on this time, we wouldn’t have forgotten the lessons we learned. The scriptures speak about this: when a person is in a storm on a ship they agree to change, but when they arrive back to land, they forget. I see this last year as a storm where we were very vulnerable and in touch with the reality of our situation. Maybe we had a moment of clarity. In ten years, I hope it wasn’t a moment of clarity, but that this moment will have turned into a lifetime of clarity.

Faithfully Conserving Tradition: Rev. Eileen O'Brien and St. James' Episcopal Church during COVID

St. James' is a multicultural community in East Austin founded originally in 1941 by a group of students and faculty from Huston-Tillotson College. The Rev. Eileen O’Brien currently serves as the Rector of St. James’ Episcopal Church, Austin, and Board Chair for Welcome Table, Inc.

This summer, we visit with a few leaders of faith communities about how their congregations responded in real time to the changing landscape demanded by the pandemic. The first of the series is with Rev. Eileen O’Brien.

Can you describe some of the ways your congregation interacted as a group pre-pandemic? What did it look like when you gathered?

We were gathering for four services for worship, each with a different [liturgical] language, as well as small groups, Bible studies, and outreach work. For pastoral care we had a lot of person to person visits. Mostly all in-person, we didn’t do much online beyond conferencing into meetings.

At some point it became clear that this would last longer than a couple of months. How did the leadership and congregation respond?

When the bishop said on the 13th of March to go online and hopefully by the upcoming Sunday, we had anticipated that this might happen, so we moved online really quickly. We had a prerecorded service that people could call up at any time that also had a Facebook watch party so that people could participate with each other. For the smaller services, we set up Zoom-based services so that people could interact around the intercessions and the sermon, which had become more participatory. We didn’t experiment with in-person until late August.

We planned and pre-recorded a lot of music for the upcoming seasons and decided how to fit it in or decided what we could ask the harp player, for instance, to record at home. Our liturgical committee did a lot of brainstorming for fully engaging the congregation in the liturgy and attending to the liturgical calendar of Feasts and Fasts, such as renewal of baptismal vows, online. 

The House of Bishops for the Episcopal Church said no virtual communion, period. So we had to change the format of the service to a non-Eucharistic service that would still develop a feeling of communion and community. That was a primary challenge our liturgical committee struggled with: how do we do communion without the bread and the wine?

At one point, people started indicating that the services, which we had shortened at the advice of our diocese, didn’t feel like a full enough worship experience. So we filled it out more and got a really good response.

Lots of people were home alone and I imagine there was a great need for pastoral care. What did St. James’ do in that regard?

About 25 people made periodic calls to the entire congregation so we could address needs as they arose. We wanted to check in on everyone, knowing that everyone was in struggle. We did a lot of porch visits: outdoors, masked, and distanced. We worked closely with the chaplains inside hospitals and coached families on how to pray for their loved ones themselves. It was very empowering - we are all pastoral care providers! For deaths we had graveside services and online memorial services for prayer, story-sharing and music. Similarly with weddings.

Is there anything developed during this time that you feel is valuable enough and serving enough of a need that you’ll keep doing it even after a return?

Yes. During our evening service, we really developed a very robust Prayers of the People with thanksgivings and intercessions. People really hear each other's prayers more clearly. We want to import that into our physical experience. The other thing that’s been a delight in that service is the opening up of the scriptures during the sermon meditation time. Over the course of the summer we’re going to experiment with different forms of participatory sermons and a time immediately following the service to dissect the readings and respond to the sermon. We have enjoyed that as a community and everyone felt like they got a lot out of the discussion in the evening.

What surprised you the most this past year in the context of your job and your community?

One of the things I anticipated but didn’t realize what the full effect would be was about regathering in person. Ours is a multicultural community, and there are demographic and geographic patterns in the response to the idea of regathering, even with a fully vaccinated congregation. People’s pacing and comfort levels are all different. They all have different factors going on in their lives. So visitors to the congregation at this moment aren’t getting to meet many long-time members. It’s taking a while to reform our identity based on physical presence. This is an interesting thing I'm still learning about.

COVID and the Faithful Risks Pastors Have Taken

Rev. Carrie has published an article in Christian Century reflecting on her work with pastors as they navigate a quickly shifting landscape in the church and in the world.

From the article: "While the challenges for churches to survive mounted, opportunities for long-overdue changes, grew, too . . . We had been beckoned in this direction for years, but the pandemic demanded that we take risks in ministry, not just for our individual churches but for the very purpose of the church itself . . . This is a high-stakes time. Some churches need to take more creative risks than ever before, even if that risk means letting go." Read the full Christian Century article here.

Resources for Traumatic Times

We are all tired. We are also all struggling to recover from individual major stressors while returning to a long-term, on-going major stressor. Knowing ways to keep ourselves afloat is critical. Communities of color undergo multiple, repetitive stressors on a regular basis. For suggestions on how to maintain stability amid sustained trauma, Colorlines offers this collection of resources curated by Miriam Zoila Pérez: 4 Self-Care Resources for Days When the World is Terrible.

Interview with Dr. Sarita Edwards

Rev. Carrie Graham and Dr. Sarita Edwards of George Fox University

Dr. Edwards teaches World Religions at George Fox University. She and Rev. Carrie visit on the topic of interfaith dialogue, sharing information for those who may be new to the process…through some of Carrie's own early memories of dialogue! Click to watch the video here.

A Solid Foundation: Care During Trying Times

Ollie Jarvis, Pastoral Assistant to The Church Lab

Central to the work we do at The Church Lab is creating and maintaining bridges. Importantly, we focus on the bridges that cross difference. In light of our current national circumstances, with the pandemic, social justice challenge, and national strife, I would like to offer some thoughts on creating and maintaining connections to ourselves and to others: the foundation for all other bridge-building.

We are living in unprecedented times. So many things, in so many realms, seem like they aren’t going to be alright. For many of us, grief, loneliness, and stress walk alongside daily. For others, these things hide - jumping out to surprise us just when we thought we had them tackled. Sometimes it can feel as though something has broken. Myself? I often feel as though I’ve shifted into a lower gear; I’m chugging along, trying to imagine an ‘other side’ at which I, and we, will eventually arrive. I try to imagine what it will look like, just as I simultaneously walk through my sometimes boring, sometimes lonely, sometimes stressful days. 

One thing is certain. As much as we feel as though we are alone, we are, in fact, never alone. I look out of my apartment window at the complex across the street, and I know that there are individual people in each of those apartments, walking through their days just like me. I keep my friends, family members, acquaintances in my thoughts constantly. I have candles burning for those I know are actively suffering. I often try to imagine reaching out my empathetic tendrils, hoping they penetrate the walls and the distance that separate me from my fellow human beings. Hoping that they feel my care; hoping they experience the bridge.

We all reside in mystery. That mystery shelters and carries us all the time. But it is especially important to remember this fact during difficult and scary moments. Each of us has a unique contribution to offer, even from where we sit, seemingly alone. We must insist to ourselves and to the world that we know it will be okay. We must each intentionally expand our energetic boundaries to imagine a world of survival and love. We must say yes to miracles; we must say yes to joy, to wholeness, to beauty. We must say yes to love. We must consciously imagine and build the ‘other side’ we hope to emerge into. 

Here are some things I’m doing to stay present and build joyful bridges:

• I taught myself to can! Prickly pear jelly has been my favorite so far. Although I must admit the lemon curd from the instant pot was also very delicious. Not only does canning take hours, but those little jars of yummy can be left on doorsteps.

• I’ve been working jigsaw puzzles and sewing. I’m trading puzzles with friends, and sewing and gifting small projects.

• I’m using video calls in new ways: I attend a church halfway across the country; my mom and I hang out together every Sunday for a couple of hours; my bedridden friend watches me cook desserts and bake bread in my kitchen. 

• I’ve worked on my family tree. It’s helped me remember that I’m part of a larger story.

• I’ve been writing snail mail way, way more. I didn’t remember how nice it is to open the mailbox to a personal greeting.

• I go outside every day to be in the sun for at least a few minutes, if not a nice walk around the block. I'm grateful for the smiles when I encounter my neighbors.

You, just like I, can reach out your tendrils, can hold hope for those suffering, can actively create joy and hope, both for yourself, for those around you, and for the larger world. You are loved; you are unique. You have a purpose and the mystery will eternally hold you as you manifest it. 

Blessings and love as we enter a new year.

A Note to TCL's Community After the Seige on the Capitol

Dear Church Lab community, 

No doubt many of you have read and listened to numerous statements by organizations and leaders in response to the tragic, unacceptable events of January 6, 2021.  Here is a TCL angle, offered up to you in the aftermath.

Most importantly, my prayers lift up the 5 who perished, with countless others who were injured in body, mind, or spirit. It is too often in our American history that blood is shed past the point when change should justifiably have occurred. Sometimes that bloodshed still does not yield the overdue change. May this event honor those who were lost by serving as a turning point in our country. May we count ourselves among those both able and responsible for making change that would better unify, preserve democracy and refrain from resorting to violence.

May TCL lift up the physical and mental health of all involved with this terrible event.

As I think of Americans committing un-American acts, who can help but reflect on the path that led them to that moment? What is it that has been informing, building and eventually snowballing their beliefs into actions, which they perceive to be courageous behavior seeking to rescue democracy, rather than threaten it?

As a Christian, I am challenged deeply - in a gut wrenching way- in this moment to think of the way Jesus defines who our neighbor is, and to remember my faith commits me to love my neighbor, even when they may seem to be an enemy as well. May God help me in this effort, understanding loving postures can go hand-in-hand with principled actions.

As I watch my social media feeds from various circles, I see narratives to the left and to the right solidifying yet further. Certainly an act of insurrection does not surprise when its after effects include trenches being dug deeper. It is a wake up call, yes, but in many or most cases, it yields the type of wake up call you were already headed toward in the weeks and months prior. 

As such, the dangers of our internal divisions grow still.

Yet as a dialogue facilitator, I feel a sense of refuge in our community. 

I do not feel refuge because of like-mindedness. 

I do not feel refuge because the work we do as a community is inherently safe or easy. 

I feel refuge in that being part of our diverse community, in every clumsy and ongoing attempt to understand that which is different than us, this is where I believe solutions exist.  Such a place feels hard to come by these days, and what a gift it is to even know of such an environment, where hope can be harnessed toward even an increasingly unified sense of what it means to be American.

They are slow-going solutions, as there are no shortcuts. But they are transformative ones.

The tools we use and hone together in dialogue are difficult, but we see again and again that they create space for peace and understanding which we did not recognize there was even space for previously. I know that is true in my experience, getting to spend time with the caliber of people who keep coming back for more dialogue, for more peacemaking, for more bridge building, even as the noise increases, even as the lines of divisions deepen into chasms. 

Whether we build the bridge over a babbling brook or a canyon, our work is not deterred. 

It is the same skill set, which grows stronger with every conversation, with every new step we take together, with every trickling effect it has on our daily lives.

It is you whose hearts and minds and behaviors I lift up when we see flashbangs go up in a sacred institution. It is your determinedly-loving community I am thankful for when people are crying out with convictions many of us cannot understand, and which may seek to take direct aim at us, our friends, our dignity, our pursuits and progress toward equity. It is our humor, our joys and our tears I reflect upon with gratitude when I scour news sources for consistent information and come up short. (No doubt the scarcity of a more consistent public narrative is a central contributor to our chasms, particular around founts of conflict, such as what “truth” is or even could be.) It is our community that surfaces in my heart when I keep thinking, "Where do we even begin?" To then remember we already have begun, and we have begun this work together, and that the lessons from our work can be shared with others who wish to start somewhere...wow. I am grateful for the work that you do, that we engage together. 

What is TCL's recommendation for you in a moment of violence against democracy, which cannot be justified? 

Listen as far as you can.

Like a deep, hurt-so-good sort of stretch you do each morning when you rise, finding you can touch your knees and eventually your toes, please challenge yourself to listen until you reach your personal limit. Move your capacity for listening -seeking to understand before being understood- forward just a milimeter forward each day or week or month. 

You may not be in a position to understand anyone and everyone, and those limits very well may signify important and integrity-laden boundaries for you. Yet if we each build our capacity in this direction, we solidify well-laid hopes in peacemaking over time and across a spectrum of paradigms and convictions that will, one day with this hard work in tow, melt into a more singular sense of "American" again one day. 

Building our capacity for listening is not the same as condoning. 

When listening leads to deeper understanding, paired with our peacemaking work, it has the power to weave both compassion and accountability into a nation wounded by her own hands. 

Both compassion and accountability are best informed by seeking to understand the fount, the why, the how, the what that defines who we decide to be.

Listening paves a path for healing, even excruciatingly painful healing we may not initially see as possible.

Our work continues, my dear friends. 

I'm so glad to be alongside you for this worthy, unending pursuit.

-Rev. Carrie Graham of The Church Lab

Beloved Atheist Dialoguer Bedxeli Speaks with Pastoral Facilitator Carrie about TCL

Atheist dialoguer Bedxeli and pastoral facilitator Carrie share a conversation about why he finds dialogue to be a uniquely valuable experience. Check it out!

TCL is excited to continue pursuing its bridge building mission at this crucial time. We need your help to be able to do so in 2021!

Please consider becoming a donation partner.

To do so easily, you may visit this page.

To learn more about financial partnership, please email carrie@thechurchlab.org. Thanks for considering!

Donna and Gene, our beloved Spiritual-but-not-Religious and Jewish-ish dialoguers, chat TCL

Spiritual-but-not-Religious and Jewish-ish dialoguers Donna and Gene share a conversation about what brought them to TCL…and what keeps them there. Check it out!

TCL is excited to continue pursuing its bridge building mission at this crucial time. We need your help to be able to do so in 2021!

Please consider becoming a donation partner.

To do so easily, you may visit this page.

To learn more about financial partnership, please email carrie@thechurchlab.org. Thanks for considering!