Tuesday - June 11, 2024

SCRIPTURE  Jonah 3.1 Then the word of Yahweh came to Jonah a second time: “Get up! Go to the great city of Nineveh and preach to them the message I told you to share.” (Full passage: Jonah 3 1-10 (Inclusive Bible) WORDS OF HOPE on Iwo Jima Day Today is Iwo Jima Day. I am too young to know what it truly meant to fight in World War II, especially in its final and most devastating months. I did not land on black volcanic sand beneath a sky filled with fire. I did not carry orders that demanded violence while promising freedom. I did not watch friends disappear in an instant. To claim that understanding would be dishonest. And yet remembrance does not require firsthand experience—it requires humility. It asks us to pause, to honor lives lost, and to sit with the truth of what war takes from the human soul. Remembrance is not meant to glorify war. It is meant to sober us. It confronts us with the cost of violence and reminds us that war always takes more than it gives. On this day, honoring those who suffered and died matters deeply. Their lives should never be reduced to symbols or used to justify future violence. True remembrance resists romanticizing sacrifice and instead calls us to learn from it. But remembrance is never only about the past. It presses into the present. It asks how we will live now. I live in a world shaped by the aftermath of war—a world where violence has not ended but has become easier to justify, easier to ignore, and easier to fund. As I stand in the 21st century, early in 2026, my spirit is drawn not toward militarism, but toward peace. I feel called to resist the normalization of war and to choose the way of nonviolence. I name myself, without apology, as a pacifist. Nonviolence is not weakness; it is moral clarity. Pacifism does not deny suffering or ignore injustice. It refuses to answer harm with more harm. It is the conviction that violence may overpower bodies, but it cannot heal hearts, restore dignity, or build lasting justice. The means we choose to shape the world we create, and peace cannot be born from systems designed to destroy. Nonviolence is not passive or naïve. It is active and demanding. It requires courage to interrupt cycles of retaliation and restraint when vengeance feels justified. It calls for truth-telling, protest, solidarity, and love that refuses to become what it opposes. Nonviolence does not avoid conflict—it seeks to transform it. I embrace the word hippie as a spiritual posture rather than a stereotype. Flower power, for me, is a commitment to peace, justice, and love. My bumper stickers speak those values openly. Hippie beads hang in my car, small reminders that even ordinary spaces can carry intention and witness. My clothing reflects simplicity and a refusal to clothe myself in fear or domination. These are not performances; they are practices—ways of aligning daily life with deeply held convictions. The music of the 1960s counterculture still shapes my imagination. Those songs remind me that love can confront war, that dissent can be faithful, and that choosing peace in a violent world is not foolish—it is necessary. In a culture that treats violence as practical and compassion as unrealistic, choosing gentleness becomes an act of resistance. War’s harm reaches far beyond the battlefield. It displaces families, creates refugees, wounds children, and scars the earth itself. Long after fighting ends, war lingers—in bodies, memories, and systems built on fear. And yet we live in a nation that can always find resources for weapons and conflict, while struggling to care for the unhoused, protect LGBTQIA+ lives, welcome immigrants, or ensure dignity for the vulnerable. This is not just a political problem; it is a spiritual one. What we fund reveals what we value. The story of Jonah reminds me that God is not committed to destruction. Nineveh is spared not through force, but through repentance and the turning away from violence. Mercy interrupts what seems inevitable. The story insists that people and nations can change, and that violence is not the final word. Honoring those who fought and died at Iwo Jima does not require glorifying war. True remembrance asks whether we are willing to choose another way. To remember faithfully is to commit ourselves to peace. To grieve honestly is to refuse to make violence sacred. And to follow the God of mercy is to believe that nonviolence is not a dream for another world, but a calling for this one. PRAYER God of peace, come into our wounded world. Where war is normalized, teach us repentance. Where violence is justified, awaken compassion. Where fear governs decisions, plant courage rooted in love. Shape us into people who choose nonviolence, who resist empire without becoming what we oppose, who carry peace in our words, our bodies, our cars, our homes, and our daily lives. Let peace begin in us, and let it ripple outward— into our communities, our nations, and our world. Amen. DEVOTION AUTHOR Reed Kirkman

SCRIPTURE  Isaiah 51:1 Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness, you who seek the Lord. Look to the rock from which you were hewn and to the quarry from which you were dug. WORDS OF HOPE Knowing where I came from is important, especially in my faith journey. Isaiah speaks of the “rock from which we were hewn” and in my case I feel that is my history being raised as a Jew. My family were Reform Jews. We didn’t keep Kosher and our brand of Judaism was what we would call Progressive today. My mother was raised Christian and she converted when she married my father. She did her best to become a Jewish Mother, sometimes almost stereotypically so. But, the unique blending of faiths gave me a surprisingly strong foundation to build on. What I tell people now is that since converting to Christianity and joining Cathedral of Hope I have become a better Jew. What I mean is, Jesus was teaching Judaism. He was a Jew. He is often referred to as “rabbi” in scripture if you are looking for proof. Jesus was the first progressive Jew, and that’s why his teachings resonate with me so strongly. As I head into the Lenten season, the ashes on my forehead remind me of the quarry from which I was dug and the dust which someday I will again become. It is not a bad thing to know our impermanence. It reminds us of that which is eternal and something that transcends all divisions and descriptions. PRAYER May we build our faith on a strong foundation and understand that God’s grace will support us in whatever we do. DEVOTION AUTHOR Hardy Haberman

SCRIPTURE Galatians 3.28 There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. WORDS OF HOPE Understanding On this Black History Month, we see a lot of division in our country, but we also are experiencing a time of quest for unity. If humanity is to come together, then it will be with the effort of humble people who try to understand one another. When you try to understand others, those same people will try to understand you. Most friendships that last happen because of the effort that was put into the relationships. Whatever you give is what you eventually get back. Someone who seeks to understand you is that much more likely to get your understanding than someone who shows little interest in your thoughts and feelings. The many who spend their lifetime trying to be understood often never get anywhere because if everyone is speaking at the same time, then there is no one listening. Wanting to be understood is not bad, but if your happiness depends on another’s approval, then what will you do when they criticize you? There are great people who are never understood in their own lifetime, and after they are re-discovered by the next generation, are spoken very highly of. The more you are able to understand others, the more you’ll be able to speak to your generation. Being understanding is not about what you know as much as it is about your attitude. By listening often, you show that you value others and teach others to do the same. It is extremely lonely when no one around you understands you, but it is not something you can force. If you never listen to others, then who will listen to you? Listening is not just about being silent; listening in making an effort to see what the other person is seeing. It does not mean that you must always agree or never have something to say. Instead, show that you care. This may mean that you have to wait a while to be understood, but don’t give up hoping that you will be one day. You may find only one person who truly understands you and you’ll be doing better than some great people who never found anyone who was able to. Always remember, God understands you, and you never have to go far to find God. PRAYER All knowing One, You are not understood by many, and yet, You love us. Help us to be as patient. When we are overlooked and criticized falsely, please remind us of our own worth. Bless You Spirit, because You know who we are. May we feel the love You have for us, and may we be at peace within ourselves. Bless You Jesus, the One who knows what it means to be misunderstood. Amen. DEVOTION AUTHOR  Jonathon McClellan Order of St. Francis and St. Clare

SCRIPTURE  Acts 7:33-34 Then the Lord said to him, ‘Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground. I have indeed seen the oppression of my people in Egypt. I have heard their groaning and have come down to set them free. Now come, I will send you back to Egypt. – WORDS OF HOPE In the seventh chapter of the book of Acts, the disciple known as Stephen is brought before the Sanhedrin and made to testify. For the length of the chapter, Stephen tells God’s story of salvation from Abraham to Joseph to Moses, including Moses encounter with God on Mount Sinai. It’s a familiar story to us, especially if you’ve seen Cecil B. DeMille’s Ten Commandments or sang the song We Are Standing on Holy Ground while holding hands at the end of Cathedral of Hope’s worship service. For Black theologians, the concept of Standing on Holy Ground isn’t necessarily reverential or worshipful. For Howard Thurman, James Cone, and other Black theologians, “standing on holy ground” is not a call to retreat from the world, but it is an awakening to God’s presence in the midst of struggle, suffering, and resistance. God says to Moses that she has seen the oppression of Her people in Egypt. He has heard their groaning. They have come down to set the people free. The burning bush appears while Israel groans under Egypt’s whip. For the disinherited, standing on holy ground means reclaiming dignity when the world says you have none. The ground becomes holy, says Howard Thurman, when a person refuses to accept degradation and listens for the divine underneath the noise of oppression. For James Cone, Black suffering in a racist society is precisely where God speaks and acts. Holy ground is slave quarters, jails, protest marches, and halls where truth is spoken to power. The ground is holy because God shows up where pain is real. It’s where God identifies with the oppressed. I have seen them. I have heard them. I am coming to set them free. In the Black church tradition, holy ground is communal and embodied. And you don’t go tippy-toe on it; you testify on it. Shoes come off to acknowledge that God has already claimed this space. God is already present where liberation is being demanded. In these days where Minnesotans toes are freezing, that ice covered sidewalk is holy ground. Wherever Black men and women have stood before the baton and the dogs, that street is holy ground. The question is this: When and where are we being called to stand in solidarity with God, remove our shoes, and stand on holy ground. PRAYER Holy God, you see the suffering of your people and hear every groan, and you make holy the ground where courage, resistance, and hope take root. Open our eyes to recognize your presence in places of struggle, and give us the courage to stand in solidarity, to remove our shoes, and to refuse the lie that any person lacks dignity. Send us, as you sent Moses, to stand where liberation is needed, to testify to your justice, and to walk with you until all your people are free. Amen. DEVOTION AUTHOR Thomas Riggs

SCRIPTURE  Mark 12:28-31 One of the scribes came near…and asked Jesus, “Which commandment is the first of all?” Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” WORDS OF HOPE If You Want to Love Others, Love Yourself Very Well Empathy—the ability to understand and to share the feelings of others—is essential to the development of the human condition. Respected anthropologist Margaret Mead knew this. When Dr. Mead was once asked what she considered to be the signs of the beginning of civilization, she pointed to a healed femur, the large thigh bone. It had been uncovered at an ancient archeological site. Someone had broken their femur, which meant certain death. They couldn’t run away from predators, forage for food, or go to water for drink. Someone had to care for them for the many weeks it took the femur to heal. Compassion, empathy, steadfast care are marks of civilization—humanity at its finest. Various spiritual traditions have known that too. For both Judaism and followers of Jesus, the greatest commandment is to love God and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. The healthy child that has been nurtured and loved has an innate gift of self-love, compassion, strength and empathy. Sometimes, childhood wounds can cause us to shrink under the weight of shame. When we are burdened by childhood experiences of doing wrong or being deeply wounded by others, this weight can be carried well into our adult life. This requires mindful self-compassion. Our intentional focus of healing ourselves through grounding, connection, seeking help, and letting go. When we are consciously caring for ourselves, both physically and emotionally, we strengthen our connection with our Higher Power and with others. From there, empathy, compassion and love can grow and flourish and we become healthier, attractive and more fulfilled human beings. Such work can transform a community, a nation, a world. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. uplifted the identity and value of people of color as equally worthy of respect and dignity. His wisdom was not merely about lifting the lives of black people. Dr. King aimed at liberating society and culture from oppressive beliefs and systems that kept civilization from flourishing. It is an ongoing journey and each of us plays a role we dare not forget. If you want to love God and others, love yourself very well. PRAYER Holy One, may I love myself well enough today so that my self-acceptance spills over to uplift the life of someone I know or meet. May it be so. Amen. DEVOTION AUTHOR Rev. Dr. Gary Kindley, LPC Pastoral Psychotherapist drgk.org