Dear Ones of St. Columba's,

Yesterday I had the opportunity to visit the National Civil Rights Museum, which is located in Memphis, Tennessee. This museum was built inside of the Lorraine Motel, which is where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr was shot and killed on April 4th, 1968. 

Visiting this site is an intense experience, and the museum is put together so that visitors are able to walk through galleries that highlight major historical events in the movements for de-segregation and equal voting rights for Black people in our country. I was reminded again how many innocent lives were lost in this struggle - so many brave Black people, as well as white people who dared to support them. All these and more who were not killed in the struggle, who chose to risk themselves for the hope of a better future for everyone, a future where all people could be safe, valued, and have access to equal opportunity in our nation. 

There have been a lot of reminders in the past few weeks that we are not in that future yet. The shooting at a Jewish synagogue in California a little over a week ago by a young white man who is a regular church-goer is a tough reality to face. The shooting at UNC Charlotte this week in a classroom with a diverse group of college students feels like another assault on the safety of our young people. Last month a racist white man set fires in several Black churches across our south.

One of the most moving parts of the National Civil Rights Museum, for me, was the part of the gallery that focused on the Children's Crusade in Birmingham, Alabama. This was a protest by Black schoolchildren that began 56 years ago today, on May 2nd 1963. Over 1000 children gathered to protest for equal rights, and many were arrested. More left school and came the next day, and the police responded with force, using attack dogs, high pressure hoses, and violence to attempt to dissuade them. Images of these children being violently attacked by police shocked the nation, and moved President Kennedy to support the Civil Rights Act passed in 1964. 

Hope is hard work, friends. The Black children of Birmingham put their bodies on the line to do this work over five decades ago - willing to believe that they could do something concrete to secure a better future for themselves and for the children who would live here after them. They followed in the footsteps of adults who gave their lives for the same desperate hope.

Easter is a time to contemplate this sort of work, and this sort of hope. Our scriptures offer us stories of Jesus asking his friends to do this work, and readings from the Book of Revelation which is also full of images and symbols that call us to this kind of hope. 

How are you being called to risk yourself for hope this week? It might not be in a protest. You might be called into a difficult conversation with a friend or family member. You might be called to reach out in friendship to someone who you are not sure will reciprocate. You might be called to forgive another human in a moment when that doesn't feel fair. 

How are we, together, being called to the perilous work of hope? Who is our community of faith especially called to stand up for, to welcome in, to see and know and love, for the sake of hope? 

We are preceded by many saints, including those of the Children's Crusade, whose lives and examples encourage us in this work. 

I am so grateful to be doing the uncomfortable work of hope with and alongside each of you.

with care and gratitude,

Alissa