This weekend we reflect on the ancient Christian Easter story of the rising again of life in the midst of hopelessness, grief, and oppression. When we so desperately need possibility to arise again in our lives and world, what meaning might we find in old stories?

Food means so much to us – it nourishes our bodies and brings us pleasure, we treasure the special recipes from our cultures and our families, we feed each other to show we care. Yet diet culture runs rampant in our society, and most of us are taught that something is wrong with how we look, and food is to blame. Join us this Sunday to reflect on how we can build a more joyful, more mindful, more loving relationship with our bodies and what we eat.

We celebrated our annual Intergenerational Flower Ceremony, reflecting on lessons from the garden about the thriving of life, as well as honoring Nowruz, the Iranian New Year’s Day. All are invited to bring a flower to participate in the in-person ceremony (we’ll have extras too), wear floral prints, or have flowers with you on your zoom screen at home.

Honoring Women’s History Month, I want to dig up something that has been long buried. I have been a history nerd my whole life. And the question that has haunted me longest is not what the story says — but what story is missing. Who got left out, sealed away, declared unworthy? This Sunday we’ll follow that question into scrolls left in the Egyptian desert and ask ourselves what it has to do with the truths we carry sealed inside ourselves — the voices we were told were too much, the stories we couldn’t speak aloud, the parts of us still waiting to be found. Come ready to dig. Come ready to be surprised by what was there all along.

Human cultures around the world and throughout time have sung and chanted together to make the work easier, teach the children, protest injustice, and connect with the holy. An old saying (attributed to many) is that “to sing is to pray twice.” How can we get in touch with the power of our own voices to connect to each other, to justice, and to greater meaning in our lives?

We don emotional chainmail to protect against heartbreak, present a shiny façade to hide the embarrassing parts of our lives, think we need a shield to be strong. Yet deeply meaningful connection only comes when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable with each other. How can we find the courage to take off our armor?

As we see our government trying to erase Black history, LGBTQ history, and the stories of so many others of our forebears – whose struggles made what we love in this world possible – how can we fight to keep the truth alive? How can we make our own stories known?

As we look to our world and to our dearest ones, we often find our hearts both broken and filled with love at the same time. Join us this Valentines Day weekend as we seek to find meaning in the brokenness and ground ourselves in the love.

There are a thousand reasons to hold ourselves back – relationships can be complicated, commitments can be exhausting, getting involved can feel too risky. Yet bringing ourselves fully to the world – showing up for our communities, offering our skills and time and care to each other – is where we forge the deepest meaning of our lives. How can we build the courage to bring our imperfect selves fully to the work of justice and love?

What does it mean to prepare—not just for a moment, but for the long haul? Many of us sense that we are being called into sustained courage, care, and action. That kind of faithfulness asks more than urgency alone. It asks us to tend our bodies as well as our spirits, to strengthen our resilience, and to root ourselves—emotionally, ethically, and practically—for what lies ahead. This Sunday’s service invites us to reflect on how we get ready: how we keep our hearts open without burning out, how we ready our bodies to show up again and again, and how clarity—about our values, our responsibilities, and even our rights—can become spiritual grounding. Come as you are. Come weary, ready, or unsure. Together, we will practice what it means to get ready—faithfully, in solidarity, and in deep love.

It is said that “every storm runs out of rain,” and yet the storms of our lives can often feel endless. As we gather virtually together amidst the winter storm, how do we remember that even in the worst moments, the storm is passing over?

With so many civil rights and freedoms under simultaneous attack, many of us are struggling to hold onto hope that we might still build the beloved community of which Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke. Yet Dr. King too struggled with holding onto hope. How can his radical legacy strengthen our resolve and our movements today?