Faith, Grace, and Hope

This was published first here at RevGalBlogPals.org. She gripped my hand in the doorway  of the church, following the Good Friday service, “I’ve never really liked Jews.” I had just finished decrying present-day harassment of Jews in the Ukraine and noted that we are kidding ourselves if we thought we would treat Jesus better now than he was treated then. We prayed. We grieved. I again felt the chasm between the religion of my heart (Christianity) and the religion of my blood and my ancestors (Judaism). Always the tension between betrayal and the realities for anyone of Jewish ancestry or culture, here I was, being told by a parishioner I love deeply something that amounted to, “I’ve never cared for an entire race of people [to which you belong through your mother and her parents and your grandparents].” Gripping her hand in that doorway, I looked her in the eye and said, “Do you know any Jews?” “No,” she admitted. “Well, now you do.” This story comes to mind a

I haven't written here lately. I haven't written here about Sandra Bland, though I did post a prayer here . I'm still thinking about her. I haven't written about North Korea, though I promised my mom that I would on Mother's Day. I haven't written about the fight over the Confederate Flag (the flag of the Army of Northern Virginia). I haven't written about gently asking another blogger to alter her language from using black to equal evil and white to equal purity. (There is nothing inherently evil in the color black.) I haven't written about how surprised I am when people bring up the "gay agenda" in a conversation that previously had nothing to do with homosexuality or homosexuals. I haven't written about Donald Trump, periods, women's bodies under attack, a failure to respect others disguised as resentment toward "political correctness", or any number of other topics. Nothing. I cannot put a finger accuratel