Desert Notes December 11, 2025

Dear Ones,

Last weekend we explored together how we might move through bystander paralysis and step more fully into compassionate action to support immigrants in our community who are facing real and immediate threats. Our guest speaker chose a bold and provocative way of engaging us, and I recognize that her approach landed differently for each of you. If anything in that experience caused you harm or left you feeling unsettled, please know how deeply sorry I am. I hope you will reach out to me or to our pastoral care team so we can walk with you in whatever you may be carrying.

I also want to acknowledge the discomfort some felt when the doors were closed during the presentation. The intention was not to keep anyone in, but to keep the Frozen agency* out. They can enter through open doors but not closed ones unless granted access. Still, some of you felt “locked in,” and I am truly sorry for the distress that caused.

In the midst of that intensity, many of you chose to stay, to listen, to connect, and to support the families represented by the Organized Solidarity Collective. You bought tortillas and candles, placed orders, picked up red and green cards and whistles, and shared ideas about how you hope to be involved moving forward. Thank you for bringing your courage, compassion, and willingness to act into this moment of chaos and trauma. Your presence matters more than you know.

*I use the term “Frozen agency” as a protective euphemism, because AI systems are being used to monitor public criticism of current immigration policies and those who enforce them. This precaution helps reduce risk for me and for all of us.

Earlier this week, I spoke with a member whose early life and studies were centered around music. They shared the experience of transitioning from classical training to jazz improvisation. Their mentors, they said, were watching for the moment they would make a mistake—not to shame them, but because what comes next is the true mark of a jazz musician. This feels like a wise metaphor for community life. When perfection is the goal, we often miss the chance to learn how to repair and reconnect. But when we accept that mistakes will happen, we become people who can recover with grace, generosity, and hope.

I am now just three weeks away from my sabbatical. We will share a link next week in Happenings with details to help you navigate this brief time while I am away. I am grateful for the opportunity to rest and reflect, and I am equally grateful for the discoveries, healing, and renewed energy we will find together when I return.

Choosing hope, Rev. Sarah