The War on Minnesota: It Can Happen Anywhere. WAKE UP!

Minnesota: Human Decency and Hotdish    --slogan seen on a T-shirt

Dear Minnesota,

I wanted to write you a note to let you know how heartbroken and angry I am, as are many others here in Massachusetts and New England, about the chaos and violence you are facing right now, all at the hands of ICE and the federal government. The killing of Renee Good, the intimidation and violence toward citizens and non-citizens alike and the targeting of brown skinned people is just so wrong, so unjust, so awful, so Ungodly. As an American and as a person of faith, I’m ashamed of what Uncle Sam claims to be doing in the name of our “homeland,” and I’m embarrassed too for my fellow folks of faith who actually support such human cruelty.

And all of this is happening in one of the most unique and amazing and beautiful parts of our country.  Minnesota is a place and a people unlike anywhere else in the world.

I’ve discovered this truth in the more than thirty-two years I’ve visited there and come to love  the North Star State. I have two beloved Godchildren there. I watched them grow up and play lots of baseball games on warm summer nights and always, there was the after game trip to Dairy Queen. I cherish two fellow ministers there whom I so love and respect for the work they’ve done and still do in the name of God’s love, how they each embody simple human decency, midwestern kindness at its best.  I’ve sharpened my writing skills in Minnesota, with talented fellow creators, and found peace and solace at a Benedictine school in the central part of the state.  I’ve visited up north where the headwaters of the Mississippi begin, in a small trickling stream and then grow into the mighty, mighty big muddy, by the time it gets to the Twin Cities.

Minnesota is my second home, my home away from home; hence my hurt and heartbreak right now.

I wonder if more and more people actually knew just how wonderful are in the land of “You betcha!” and Minnesota Nice (it’s a real thing), maybe they’d have more compassion towards the state. Perhaps Uncle Sam might not attack it as if it is some wild animal that needs to be put down and yes, that is the energy of human destruction and pain that is happening on the ground there.

I know.

I’ve spoken firsthand to a friend whose daughter was pepper sprayed at her high school by ICE agents stalking their human prey.  I’ve heard stories from another friend about driving Somali high school kids to school because their parents are just too rightfully scared of going out in public. Scores of businesses are closed. Schools are going remote. One colleague spoke of what a ghost town his city has become. When people are this scared, of course they stay in and hunker down and just try to survive.

Which means of course if it can happen there it can happen here too. 

Imagine three thousand ICE agents marauding through the streets of Framingham or Lawrence or Springfield, dragging people out of cars, smashing windows, kicking down doors, chasing down folks who are guilty of wanting a better life for themselves and their loved ones. That possibility of an ICE invasion here isn’t just some imagined paranoid fever dream. It’s not an imagined nightmare that could never happen to us.

If our friends in the Land of 10,000 Lakes are not safe, then no one in the United States is safe. Not really. Not anymore. If they can come for them they can come for us and come for the people we love and know as neighbors and friends. Coaches and teachers and gardeners and caregivers. Business owners and fellow church members. Folks who sing in a choir with us and live right next door.    

Do we need to figure out how to deal with immigration in the United States in the largest sense, and make our system sane, organized and up to date? Do we need to ensure that undocumented dangerous criminals are found and sent home?

Absolutely. Yes.

But let’s do so through dialogue, the rule of law, due process, non-violence and simple human care and decency. Not at the end of the barrel of a gun, nor with the weighted heft of a blackjack poised to strike.

Minnesota… you do not deserve this treatment. No one does. Not in America. Not anywhere. And so for those of us who try our best to love all of our neighbors, no one left out…and for those of us who still love our nation and want it to stand up for mercy, welcome and kindness….let us resist, resist, resist, and always with non-violence….

In Minnesota, in Maine, in Massachusetts, anywhere the innocent and the peaceful and the powerless are threatened. God help us all.

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

Grant Us Courage to Look For Stars on Cold Winter Nights

"Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”   --Sarah Williams, “The Old Astronomer to His Pupil” 1868

This is the time of year when it feels as if it is the absolute darkest in the natural world and yes, sometimes in the human world too. Even though winter solstice was two weeks ago, the 24 hour period in this part of the world that is longest night of the year, still, right now just seems to feel darker somehow, at least for me. Maybe you too.  

The holidays are fully ended and as we pack up the lights and take down the tree, as we put away the wrapping paper and the greeting cards and the menorah and the nativity set, it’s kind of like we say to winter, “Ok. You are absolutely here, and right now. No more celebratory December distractions.  It’s cold. It’s dark.”

But then there are the stars, the amazing, miraculous, blazing January stars.  These seem to twinkle more brightly right now.  We stop on a long walk in the woods just past dusk, or we stand in the driveway after getting home from work, feet crunching the snow or we gaze out the window after we’ve put the lights out for bed and then we look out and we look up and….

STARS!

Scores of stars on a frigid evening, dotting the heavens, twinkling and set like diamonds in an ink black winter sky. A sky that that looks so sharp and clear, it takes our breath away.  A January sky somehow that embodies the chill and shadows of this sometimes bleak “what’s next?” time of year. The calendar can feel oh so empty.  Loved ones have returned home. And though many love this time of year for its outdoor pastimes, so many of us might instead feel tempted to just curl up in a ball under the blanket on the couch and declare….

“Wake me up when it’s spring!”   

The world feels shadow filled and cold right now too.  As if two wars weren’t enough, now Creation’s got a third in Venezuela. Just three days ago, millions of people saw their health insurance premiums, once subsidized by Uncle Sam, wither away like melting snow.  Food benefits too.  To heat the house or to feed the family? 

If I had to assign a temperature to the last year in our civic and national political life, I’d say it’s been unmerciful and bone chilling, especially for the poor, and so much of this chill is courtesy of our bullying, bombastic, ice cold commander in chief. The command by Jesus that we are to  care for these, the least of our brothers and sisters, seems to have been forgotten by many of my fellow “religious” folk. For that I am sorry. But still, 2026 beckons.

It is here and we must carry on.

We must continue in faith to look for the stars and yes, especially in the depths of winter.  In a way it is so much easier to live within the promise of spring or the warmth of summer.  It takes courage to push back against the winter cold and to push back against winters of our discontent and yet, this is where many of us find ourselves.

So how to live?

The only path and life I see is to carry on with courage. Godly courage. Gritty courage.  Surprising courage. Personal courage. Communal courage. Prayerful courage, remembering the words of one wise soul, Dorothy Bernanrd, who said that courage is finally just fear that has said tis prayers.

So, just as the stars shine so brightly right now, so too must people of goodwill and people with good hearts shine as well. Pray without ceasing and act for the good without ceasing. We need some light and we need some illumination and we need to be the people who have the guts to light that one candle instead of cursing the darkness.

Williams is right in her poetic courage, and especially in January as the stars come out bright and bold. Look up into heavens and remember and trust…

“Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”  

Courage, my friends.  Courage to see the stars.

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

 

The Best Christmas Gift? Low or No Expectations.

“Expectations were like fine pottery. The harder you held them, the more likely they were to crack.” -Brandon Sanderson, American sci-fi author

What are you expecting to happen as we enter into these coming holidays and holy days filled with so much anticipation and expectations.  How hard are you hanging to your expectations? 

As in “This is what I want to happen.” As in “If this does not happen I will be sad/disappointed/angry/hurt.”  As in the days of old when we were children and after we finished ripping all the wrapping paper off the boxes scattered under the tree, we did not get the gift we hoped for and we were so disappointed.  All that hype and all that anticipation and all those letters to Santa and yet…the expectations we expected to be met were not.

I know I always have to try and let go of my holiday expectations come late December, because if I am not careful I will set myself up for hurt because, you see….my family is not all happy or my family can’t get together because everyone’s schedule is so crazy or I wish I was dating someone right now because that would make Christmas amazing or why can’t I be joyful at Christmas like all those actors in the TV commercials?

Actually, to kill holiday joy or be a killjoy, just do this. Let your expectations rule your heart with no room for serendipity or change or surprise. I know that is always my temptation this time of year. To build it all up and then to expect so, so much. Too much.  

Which is kind of ironic considering that in my faith tradition of Christianity, at the center of our Christmas story is a teenage mom unexpectedly expecting a baby.  Mary, nervously watched over by carpenter dad and first time father Joseph. They were a new family that expected to find a nice room at the Holiday Inn but then had to settle for a drafty room at Motel 6 on the outskirts of Bethlehem.

Joseph expected to have an old fashioned long engagement and to Mary, but the Holy Spirit had other plans.  Expectations not met. The expectations that the one who would come to save his people would be a warrior king, or a triumphant leader of the masses and yet, who actually showed up? A fragile newborn, Jesus. Vulnerable, innocent, completely dependent on his earthy parents for safety and sustenance.

All those worldly expectations dashed. Denied. Expectations turned upside down.  Thwarted.  Like that gift we so coveted but did not receive.

Some things at Christmas and New Years never change I suppose. Expectations can drive us crazy and yes, even break our hearts. That is unless we choose to instead let go of our holiday expectations and let this life unfold as it unfolds. Or as folks in 12 step groups attempt to practice: “Live life on life’s terms.” 

Go into holiday gatherings and holiday gift giving and holiday table seating with no expectations save for….”I wonder what the season has in store for me.”  To let go of expectations means we embrace the now, the what, not the what if. To let go of expectations is to be thankful and to thank God for the simplest of gifts: being loved and loving others.  Having enough food on the table.  A warm bed to sleep in under a roof of safety.  A religious story to live by. A faith community to return home too.

All I want for this holiday is an abundance of trust in whatever may come my way in the next 12 days or so and to let go of any expectations I might be hanging on to for dear life. That’s the gift I hope I will find waiting for me under the tree: few or maybe even no expectations.  Then anything and everything is possible.

Happy holidays and happy holy days, and a blessed New Year too!

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

 

The Mixed Blessing That Is The Holidays

"I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams."  --1943, composed by Gannon, Kent, and Ram

It is the cheesiest of cheesy Christmas kitsch, and oh my goodness, do I still love it and yes, I still drag it out for display every single December. 

In 2007 for the holidays our office staff decided to hold a Secret Santa to mark the holidays. You pick a name and buy that person a gift, which they receive anonymously, until your true identity is revealed.

So, we selected names, and then went forth to buy our gifts, and all for the agreed upon price of $15 or less. I went to Filene’s Basement and found a plastic snow globe, which featured a choir of singers contained under that dome. When you pushed the bright yellow button on the front, it warbled the electronic tune of “Angels We Have Heard on High” while fake styrofoam snow was blown within the globe, all accompanied by the mechanical whir of a battery driven motor.

Ho, ho, ho!

Jose, who was the church’s administrator and my holiday gifting victim (all the other gifts were tasteful and appropriate) accepted my offering with grace and kindness. “Thank you!” she said, while the other folks just groaned at my Christmas faux pas.

Every year afterwards, we’d have a good laugh when she pulled the globe out of storage and put it on her desk for all to see.  And to push the button of course. It was a hit, especially with younger kids who loved to watch the snow, snow, and listen to the music. Through the years the motors begun to falter and the music is slower but 18 Christmases later, it still works.

Now I have it in my office.

You see in 2019 Jose died away from lung cancer. I worked with her for eleven years, saw her almost every single workday, and was so blessed not just by her competence but even more so by her love and friendship. She was a good soul. Now every Christmastime when I look at that tacky priceless snow globe, I always remember Jose. 

I thank God I got to know her and that makes me happy.  And I’m sad too because it is another holiday that she is gone. I still miss her. Alot.

This dichotomy of sadness and joy, of memory and loss, of getting excited for the holidays while perhaps also kind of dreading the holidays: it’s pretty common in our world. It may not be very visible, this Christmas melancholy you might call it.  After all…

IT’S THE HOLIDAYS, AND AT THE HOLIDAYS WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE VERY VERY VERY VERY HAPPY!!!!

No Grinches, no Scrooges or long suffering Bob Cratchetts allowed.  At least that’s what the commercials and the Christmas Industrial Complex tells and sells us.  Have a holy jolly Christmas, it’s the best time of the year!

And so….

It’s a wonderful holiday because there is a new baby in the family and it is a tough Christmas because we miss someone who isn’t at the dinner table on the 25^th anymore.  It is a beautiful season because those who are religious remember and tell again of Christ’s birth or mark Hannukah with gifts and candles every night. But then it’s tough. Mom’s not here this year because she’s in a nursing home. Sis is struggling to find a job. 

Those of us in the Christian tradition certainly know the story of these holy days is very mixed. No room at the Inn for an unwed teenage mom and nervous apprentice carpenter dad. Just days after his birth, this infant’s very life is threatened because a power hungry narcissistic king is out to get him. And all because this little baby one day would grow up and teach the world to love unconditionally and to welcome the stranger, the orphan, and the widow. 

Crazy kings then. Crazy kings now.

Yes, holidays and holy days are sometimes beautiful and difficult and all at the same time. So, may God bless us all in this holy season with a spirit of gentleness, kindness, and mercy.

For ourselves, others, and the world. 

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

      

  

The Toxic Culture That Dominates Our Civic Life: HELP!!!!

 

Tox​ic (adjective) 1. containing or being poisonous material  2. extremely harsh, malicious, or harmful                 --Merriam-Websters Dictionary

It’s a website called NextDoor and was begun in 2008 to connect people in their neighborhoods, towns, and cities.  Kind of like Facebook for Main Street. Time once was you could visit NextDoor and see items and news that make a community, a community.  Posts about the Scouts, Little League games and the bake sale at church.  You could ask for contractor recommendations and promote your non-profit.  Some folks posted pictures of cute critters that make nocturnal visits to their backyards.

NextDoor was about as local and relatively innocuous as it could get and yet….

The challenge on NextDoor was and is how to temper discussions that get out of hand, neighborhood squabbles that dissolve into very public spats. Volunteer moderators once did this well.  Now? 

Last week I went on NextDoor to look around, see what’s going on in my little town, when I viewed a link for a YouTube video designed to anger people. To troll folks. To raise the communal temperature. To tweak the sensibilities, in this case, of “the libs” as some folks like to say with derision.  It was a video about crime in Boston, and the unspoken but apparent need for the President to send in National Guard troops, like in Chicago and D.C.  

And then the toxic tennis match began.

Folks posted about the danger of ANTIFA, and others posted that fascism wasn’t on the streets of Boston, it was in the White House.  Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.  My neighbors, sitting with their laptops or phones, viciously tearing one another down, toxic language and behavior on display.

And not just on NextDoor.

It’s toxic at School Committee as folks line up for the public discussion so they can get someone fired because of a Facebook post. This while cops stand by just in case. Toxic at some churches as folks literally take their side of the pews, left or right, and if the pastor is too lefty or righty, well, let’s just fire them!  Toxic at work. “Please don’t bring up politics!” Toxic at home. I know two couples whose marriages ended because one loved the President, and the other could not stand him.

Makes me wonder…do we even know what civility looks and feels like anymore?  Can we agree to disagree without being disagreeable?  Can we engage with the other and just listen and not immediately point a digital middle finger at anyone who posts something we don’t like? Can we have an open enough mind that it might actually be changed?

Or are we now addicted to swimming in the toxic sea that is drowning our culture? Toxicity has now become “normal.”

This has largely come about because of the example set by political leaders in the highest of offices and yes, the highest office of all.  When you call all immigrants rapists, talk about grabbing women by the ______; when you refer to African countries as ____holes and brag about how much you hate your opponents while speaking at a funeral, the vitriol and violent rhetoric flows out and flows down, infects everyone. 

Toxic language and actions give folks permission to treat others terribly.  To insult.  To deride. To threaten. To yell at. To rage. To live in a constant state of agitated righteousness.  Don’t they ever get tired of living such grievance-based lives?

Do all of these folks who post and protest and attack and consume news 24/7,on the right and the left: do they have anything else going on in life? You know…bowling league or potluck supper at the temple or maybe just a pastime that brings them joy?  Baking cookies. Walking the dog. For the sake of the millions who are now so disgruntled…will they ever find peace?  

I hope so.

My faith tells me that toxicity and wanting to see others suffer, especially an opponent: it’s just plain wrong. It’s an insult to the God of love, who is so full of grace that we all get to be forgiven when we are at our worst.  I know I need God’s mercy every day.  I don’t have all the answers.  My “side” is not 100 percent right, not even close, nor is the faith I practice.  And I don’t want to see the one I disagree with get hurt or humiliated or exiled or deported.   

Toxicity practiced always leads to toxicity experienced within, and that is a really, really sad way to live.  The life God gives us can be hard but also so beautiful.  But to know this we have to raise our eyes up from the mud and dare to look at the stars in the heavens.

I’m done with toxicity, next door and everywhere else. How about you?

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

               

In the Midst of the Chaos and Cruelty: Take a Break. Breathe. Be.

"Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” – Anne Lamott

I always get melancholy the day after the baseball season officially ends for my favorite team, the Boston Red Sox. That happened last night (October 3^rd) at 10:38 pm when first baseman Nathaniel Lowe popped out in the top of the ninth inning at Yankee Stadium to end the game, and the BoSox 2025 campaign. 

I loved this team and season as so many other fans did, and for reasons you’d expect. 

Baseball has been a part of my life since I was seven so for 57 years I’ve enjoyed the sport, how it entertains and brings me some joy. This season was awesome because the team was actually competitive and a blast to watch, really for the first time since at least 2021, maybe even 2018. The times I went to Fenway Park this year the place was alive again and just rocking. This spring, summer, and fall’s games, as always, gave me a way to measure the seasons, to witness the passage of time and to know comfort in the dependability of a game that always returns next year, no matter what.

But what really drew me in as a fan this season was the how the game allowed me to escape, for a few minutes in the morning sports stories, listening to the radio at night, and talking about the Sox with other fans. Baseball allowed me to consume news that was actually good, interesting, and something to look forward to, and follow.  Baseball let me cheer for the good guys and against the bad guys in games on a field of play that ultimately had nothing at stake, save for bragging rights and championship rings.

Boy, did I need baseball. Do I need something, anything to lean back into for rest, for comfort, for recharging, for life. Maybe you do too.

Because the part of my life I live as a citizen and an American? That’s mostly filled with bad news, really bad news, since last January in particular. Each day now seems to be filled with too many horror stories of the powerless being treated with such cruelty. Bad tidings about the high-jacking of our democracy in a movement marked by mediocrity and mayhem. The country I love is feeling less and less like my home these days.

Baseball helped me take a break. 

We all need such pauses and retreats from the intensity of day-to-day life. God does not make us to fire on all burners 24/7. To just keep going and going. Our devices may scream at us, “PAY ATTENTION TO ME!” and the news cycle may demand of us “YOU MUST CONSUME THE LATEST NEWS NOW!” Too many of our leaders now act as if politics is the center of everything, as if it is a new kind of religion, with a new god and gods, who demand absolute fealty and devotion.

Not me. I absolutely won’t worship at that altar or before that idol. 

I am just trying my best to be a part of the good now, to build up rather than to tear down and to make the world a little better every day by how I live. I often fall short, but I have to keep on keeping on, as do many of us. At its best that’s what religious faith tries to do as well: inspire believers to embody the good, and then to do God’s good, for the common good. That hard work happens every day in houses of worship and soup kitchens and prisons and nursing homes and schools and small towns and big cities. 

To do the good and to push back against the bad.

But everyone needs a break from our work, the intensity of daily life, and the chaos that some create for their own amusement or profit, or both. That’s why I needed baseball. Why I need to go the movies and to ride my bike. Why I need to write. Bake bread and make a home cooked meal for my 90-year-old mother. Why I need to spend more time with the folks I love and who love me right back, without condition.

You do too. We all need to regularly refill our spiritual wells and to be renewed for the living of this day. 

What is your baseball, the pastime, the hobby, the escape, the retreat, the ritual, the game, the craft, the sport that feeds and renews your soul? Who are the people in this life that make your heart sing and give you the strength to carry on, and make life worth living? 

My hope for all of us is in these tumultuous times is that we each find our joy, and whatever makes us feel more alive. May we embrace more often our loved ones and just take good care. Life is a marathon after all, not just a sprint. This race has a ways to go.

I’ll pray for you, and I hope you’ll pray for me and others and our country and the world too.

And take a break, ok?

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

  

     

 

The Online Firestorm Tearing Us Apart: THINK BEFORE YOU SHARE!

"No one can tame the tongue—a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse people, made in the likeness of God."   --James 3:8a-9

In late May 2020, just a few days after the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis, I faced into an impending Sunday worship service. I struggled with what I would say and what the gospel of Jesus Christ might have to say as well. This one precious life ended by police brutality. But as that Sabbath approached I just wasn’t yet sure about the right words to preach to the congregation I served.  I wasn’t ready to speak yet. I included the tragedy in my welcome and my prayers and the prayers of the people but not in the sermon.

Which angered one of my members so much, it eventually led, in part, to him leaving the church.  He accused me (at least it felt like) of pastoral cowardice. In the days and weeks to come I spoke about Floyd and racial injustice from the pulpit and wrote about it online. Our church renewed and went much deeper in our relationship with an African American Church in Boston, one we’ve partnered with for more than thirty years.

And I’m still sure I made the right choice in 2020 to not speak until I was confident that what I had to say was relevant, thoughtful, constructive, and Godly. I’m remembering that time now as I witness the social media, political and national firestorm that’s exploded in response to the assassination of conservative icon Charles Kirk last Thursday.  Before his tragic death had even been officially confirmed, literally mere minutes after those shots rang out, the opinionizing began in earnest. And yes, much of it was and still is stupid, harsh, violent, vengeful, righteous, thoughtless, and self-promoting. 

Millions of public figures, online influencers, Facebook posters, X tweeters, so many people all rushed in to declare, “Well, this is what I think! Listen up!” Thank God there was and is a minority of folk who responded well: with compassion, sincere grief, thoughtfulness, calls for peace, but sadly these are few and far between.

I have been in the opinion sharing business for a long time, 35 years as a preacher in church, 25 years as a weekly newspaper columnist, and a blogger since 2007. I trained for and get paid to think and pray about big issues, big ideas and God, and then to share my opinion publicly about these things. It is a privilege and a joy, but it also carries a deep responsibility.    

When you have a public pulpit, secular, religious or political, from which to express your opinions, I believe you must always strive to be wise and care-filled in the words you speak, the declarations you make, the tone you take, and the response you hope to evoke in your readers and listeners.  You can do this and still be clear, courageous, and honest in sharing your convictions with others. 

But too often folks, especially online, share opinions impetuously, or with intentional vitriol, or all to rile up and insult, even to strut. These firebrands make matters worse by what they say and write. And what I have seen in many public statements, posts and speeches since last Thursday, is recklessness from all parts of the political, media and social universe. No one is innocent.  

The tongue (and the pen) is two edged in its effect.

It can build up, comfort, inspire, heal, and bring people together. It can destroy, threaten, hurt, and divide people.  So…my plea is this. Please think, THINK, before you speak or write or post or tweet or text or opine. And for those who lead and influence us? Commit more to contributing to the common good in our civil discourse and less to how many likes and views (and yes money and power) that you covet, in offering your opinion.      

Or, maybe even, say nothing. Write nothing. Not one word.

Yup—that’s an option too.

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.