“Reflection on Fellowship” by Bart Campolo

For the British social psychologist Liam Hudson, IQ as a measurement for achievement is a lot like height in basketball; past a certain threshold, it doesn’t much matter.

“Reflection on Wholeheartedness” by Dan Cardinali

Almost a year ago, I stepped down from leading national, Washington, D.C.-based organizations after almost two decades of being a CEO.

“Joy as the Secret to Wholehearted Living” by Richard Beck

As a volunteer chaplain, I lead a weekly Bible study for incarcerated men at the French-Robertson maximum-security unit north of my hometown in Abilene, Texas.

“As Unto the Lord” by Bill Robinson

When dry spells hit, I think we can acknowledge them, face them, read the Psalms, find a therapist, consume chocolate or wine or both, and wait upon the Lord. What we shouldn’t do, at least initially, is assume an arid soul means we’re in the wrong vocational space.

“The Awe and Wonder of Wholehearted Living” by Christine Sine.

Can you imagine a God who dances with shouts of joy, laughs when you laugh, loves to play, enjoys life, and invites us to enjoy life together?

“Resilience that Cultivates” by Derek McNeil, PhD

The gift of challenges is the lessons learned about how to persist and develop a hopeful expectation while persevering. I’ve learned that wholeheartedness is a type of stubbornness to look for the transforming possibility…

“Ressentiment” by Dave Hillis

Our call is to warmheartedness. In the utter simplicity of it, we find the joy and fearlessness to stand at the margins and discover them erased by our affectionate awe. The blindfold falls and we only see goodness. Now, gently, place your hands over your heart.

“Warmheartedness” by Father Greg Boyle

Our call is to warmheartedness. In the utter simplicity of it, we find the joy and fearlessness to stand at the margins and discover them erased by our affectionate awe. The blindfold falls and we only see goodness. Now, gently, place your hands over your heart.

“Faith and Love Freely Given” by Suzanne Ross

When I was a young girl growing up Catholic, I was devoted to Mary. We had a lovely tabletop statue of her with hands open wide to either side as if reaching out to hug me. All during May, I would gather wildflowers and weave them into a tiny crown for her head, for May was Mary’s month. I would sing, “Oh Mary, we crown thee with blossoms today/ Queen of the Angels/ Queen of the May.”

“Being Found at Your Post” by James Alison

One of the occupational hazards of those of us who find ourselves working in some religious or pastoral activity is that we are expected to be able to give a clean account of how we were “called”. And for many, this is coupled with the freedom and backing to pursue that call from communities that enthusiastically affirm them. This is not at all my experience.

“Wholehearted” by Kris Rocke

Each year, we choose a theme to reflect on together as a community. In 2023, our theme is wholeheartedness. This word came as a gift upon completing a series of personal retreats last year where I spent four weeks at different monasteries, listening.

We’ve come to the final reflection in our series on synodality. We’ve spent the last year exploring how to become a synodal community who “walks together” across difference for the sake of the most vulnerable, discovering our shared humanity along the way.

Our theme this year is synodality. Its root meaning is to “walk together.” We are learning how to become a synodal community who walks together across difference for the sake of the most vulnerable, discovering our shared humanity along the way.

Who knew that almost a year after we chose this theme several of us within the Street Psalms Community would walk together across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama? It was part of a vision trip hosted by our friends at the Empower Initiative, led by Ben McBride. It was the culminating experience of an intense three-day journey through the heart of the Civil Rights Movement here in the United States.

Our theme this year is synodality. Its root meaning is to “walk together.” We are learning how to become a community who walks together across difference for the sake of the most vulnerable. Along the way, we are discovering our shared humanity.

Inevitably, when walking together we find ourselves at a crossroads. One wants to go left, and the other wants to go right. Division threatens the ranks.

This year’s theme is synodality. It means “walking together” We are learning what it means to walk together across difference for the sake of the most vulnerable. In the end, we discover something we didn’t expect – our sameness. 

Our theme this year is synodality. Its root meaning is to “walk together.” We are learning how to become a synodal community who walks together across difference for the sake of the most vulnerable, discovering our shared humanity along the way.

This month we are making the 17-mile trek from Jerusalem to Jericho.

Our theme this year is synodality. Its root meaning is to “walk together.” We are learning how to become a synodal community who walks together across difference. We are discovering something we didn’t expect – our sameness.

This month we are going to walk on the lighter side of life.

Our theme this year is synodality. Its root meaning is to “walk together.” We are learning how to become a synodal community who walks together across difference, discovering our sameness.

This month our journey takes a difficult turn. We are walking to Gehenna.

On March 8, 2017, 41 girls were burned alive at a government orphanage in Guatemala City. What was supposed to be a safe home for the girls turned out to be a place of unspeakable violence. It had long been rumored

This month we join the disciples on their return trip to Galilee.

After the resurrection, an angelic guide tells the disciples that Jesus “is going ahead of them to Galilee” (Mark 16:8). It’s a curious detail. Why are the disciples being invited to walk back to Galilee?

This month I want to share a story about a courageous soul who is growing my heart and expanding my vision of what’s possible. I write this with the full consent and the help of my friend Onics, who can now add “author” to his amazing resume.

On November 3, 2021, Onics landed at Seatac Airport. It was his first plane ride and it was a doozy: 25 hours from Nairobi to Seatac.

In his book After Whiteness, Willie James Jennings suggests that the goal of theological formation is “belonging.” He adds “…and not  just any kind of belonging, but a profoundly creaturely belonging that performs the returning of the creature to the creator…”

Not once in all of the resurrection narratives does the crucified risen one return with thunderbolts. The lynched and murdered one does not come back and rub our nose in the murderous mess we made. The resurrection accounts begin with some variation of, “Do not be afraid” and “Peace be with you.” The absence of vengeance is ginormous and demands attention. There’s not even the slightest hint of resentment. None! Zip! Zero! It’s hard to overstate how really, really weird this is.

I am not a doom and gloom futurist, but it seems clear to me that either we learn to journey together across differences, or our differences will consume us.