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I live in a neighborhood where most of my neighbors have much darker skin than I do. I wish more of my city were like my street. Demographic maps based on census data show that my city’s neighborhoods, like most, tend not to be diverse. Even if it were not my friends and neighbors that we are talking about when unarmed black men are killed by police, I would not be able to stay silent. But I suspect a big issue is precisely that not only the “all lives matter” crowd, but even people like me saying “black lives matter,” are often making theoretical statements about other people, living in other neighborhoods. And so I felt the need to say something more personal, to my friends, neighbors, and colleagues.

The physical reality of her son, the very tangible way that he is a part of her, will not go away. He is with her everywhere she goes.

This summer, I worked with the good people of UNCO to start a publishing company. We published our first book, Faithful Resistance, by Rick Ufford-Chase. In it, Rick brings together a chorus of voices. In this midst of the shattering violence of this week, I want to introduce you to one of those voices, in particular. Annanda Barclay writes about why Black Lives Matter.

There are some very important national conversations taking place these days. Few people seem to be saying anything grounded in theology.

Perhaps when we plant congregations, we should plan on starting two: one that lasts and one that doesn't.

Deuteronomy is a book of words, a book of preaching and exhortation offered as the word of God. It is made up of words given by leaders to the people before they are to form a new nation, establish homes, plant vineyards, dig wells. 

For the second time this week we have heard of another police shooting of an African American. Tuesday saw the killing of Alton Sterling in Baton Rouge, Lousiana, and Wednesday night Philando Castile in the St. Paul suburb of Falcon Heights, Minnesota. While all of these shootings have bothered me, the Falcon Heights shooting hit closer to home, and not just because it was only a few miles from me. What makes this one more real to me is that Mr. Castile could have been me.

c. 2016 Religion News Service...

The “seekers” have left the church—if they ever came....

I used to lead activities like the "Privilege Walk" and "Cross the Line." I couldn't shake the feeling that they were not taking us very far.

I was warned. Me and a few hundred others who had gathered for a funeral. Me and a few hundred others who sat, silently, grimly, in a cavernous and spare sanctuary while a stern man in a black suit stood in an elevated pulpit and admonished us with grave fingers wagging. I was warned that death was coming for me and unless I renounced the ways of the devil and repented of my worldly pride and attachments, that my fate would be a fiery and tortuous one. I was told that there was nothing good in me and that I could never stand before the righteous judge of the earth. I was told that God has his elect and we must never question God’s ways. And for a moment—just a tiny moment—it was exhilarating.

I had work to do the other day, but I set it aside to reread Elie Wiesel’s Night as a way to mark the great man’s death and remember his life. While I was struck by passages I anticipated, like his account of how his belief was shattered upon seeing the furnaces of Auschwitz—“Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever”—it was an unexpected line that caught me, given a current news story I’d been following.

In Ohio, an angry Donald Trump responds after he tweeted an anti-Semitic image of Hillary Clinton from a white supremacist group. He blasts the media for their criticism of the image: “They’re racial profiling, they’re profiling. Not us.” How is this even possible? Two black men are killed by police. Brutally and violently. And a billionaire white man, with every privilege in the world, says he’s the victim.

Many Americans have gone from being squeamish about same-sex marriage to being squeamish about telling their gay friends that their relationships are less than valid.

(The Christian Science Monitor) When it succeeded, Britain’s campaign to leave the Euro­pean Union, called Brexit, shook up...

The prayers of the people call us. When we answer, we invite the possibility that it is we who will be poor, hungry, sick, and in prison.

The concept of race headlines many discussions in America. If you are talking about education, then you must address the achievement gap between white and black students. If you are talking about poverty, then you must talk about the disproportionate number of people of color who consume social services. If the conversation is about crime, you are pressed to mention the high number of African American male inmates. It’s the fog of race: prejudice and discrimination applied to pigmentation-neutral topics.

Often when we talk about what makes us human, we talk about how we are different from other animals. We mention upright posture, language, culture, self-transcendence, and so on. Our concern seems to be articulating and establishing our distance from animals. Theologically speaking, what makes us human, what makes us distinct, is our responsibility for creation as bearers of God’s image and not whatever way we might be different than other animals. It is interesting that when God uses images and metaphors to describe God’s own self, God and the biblical writers don’t have any problem comparing God to various animals.

You can never fully know your child’s interior life. You cannot know the measure of sadness or rage that may be unfolding within them.

Stuart Levy, a nurse at a Jerusalem hospital, updates his ward’s work schedule several times a week with staffers’ vacations, birthdays, and more religious holidays than many people know exist....