Join us for Holy Week 2026!
Even in the driest desert, there is refreshment. Jesus stoops to wash the dusty feet of his friends, showing us that mending begins with the vulnerability of being served. We explore radical hospitality as the water that softens the hard edges of our wilderness.
In a polarized world, look for mystery and poetry instead of easy exits. Where is the refreshment in your dry place?
Ritual action: Perform one small act of service for someone you find difficult to love. Notice how it feels to "stoop" into their wilderness.
Joy Harjo
The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.
Joy Harjo is an American poet, musician, playwright, and author. She served as the 23rd United States Poet Laureate from
2019 to 2022, the first Native American to hold that honor.