As we emerge from our covid isolation into increasing social contact, we realize that during these months of spending too much time on social media and watching conflicting news reports, our stress and anxiety has inevitably damaged some of our relationships. Do we need to be generously forgiving and reconciling, or do we need to evaluate which relationships really are toxic to us and erect boundaries to protect ourselves in a post pandemic world? Or, obviously, some of both?

The list of the suffering in this world could go on indefinitely, and this week has been no exception. From the courtroom where Derek Chauvin is being tried to the growing refugee crisis in Ethiopia, we find ourselves asking: how do we grieve the oppression and violence, while we also celebrate the moments of joy and justice that we encounter along the way, and encourage each other to live like another world is actually possible? On this Easter Sunday, we reflect on how spiritual practice can help us continually find new life as we dismantle supremacy and claim our dignity and joy.

In most western nations, the penal system is designed to reform convicted criminals so that they can return to a productive life in society. In the USA, where we have two million people in prison and nine million on parole, a far greater percentage of our population than any other western democracy, prison terms are more likely to be used for a kind of social revenge than they are for reform. Sex crimes are typically considered to be the most heinous, but in a penal system bent on putting more people in prison for longer sentences, have we lost our way in imprisoning those who have not committed rape, assault, or even sexual harassment but who have viewed illegal pornography in their own homes? A teenager with the impulse control issues that often accompany autism or bi-polar disorders who watches child porn in private may not be "innocent" but is their crime on the scale of murder? If not, then why do we punish them more severely than we do murderers? Have they, somehow, committed the unforgivable sin?

The question that echoes from the primeval pages of Genesis demands a new answer in this era of a global pandemic, "Am I my brother's (sister's) keeper?" We all know that the right answer is "yes" but fear sure can make us a lot more selfish than in our more relaxed moments. Some of us are afraid of either getting or spreading the virus, others are afraid of being manipulated by what they see as public hysteria. On either side of the fence, fear doesn't bring out our best qualities. But, in spite of the way the pandemic has been made into a partisan issue, we have a common though invisible enemy, Covid-19. And in the midst of the pandemic, we have myriad opportunities to find and express our better selves by being mindful of the needs of our sisters and brothers.

When injustice and oppression become normal in a society, it often requires persistent and even outrageous actions to unveil, resist, and ultimately transform it. Like Jesus turning over tables in the temple, we must continually braid our own whip of cords by learning and applying creative tactics that help us both unveil the evil of injustice and live our way into another world.

This year's conservative Republican gathering, CPAC, included the surprising presence of a golden statue of Donald Trump. It is surprising that the gathering of largely Evangelical Christians did not immediately see the easily drawn analogy to the golden calf idol from Exodus. But, it is a fitting symbol of the idol the former president's supporters have bowed down to worship: greed, racism, oppression, misogyny, xenophobia, homophobia, and more. The statue represents in a very real way the "id" of our culture but, as an idol, it is slated to be destroyed. The liberation of America from the shadow of our heritage of white supremacy and economic oppression must end.

This talk has been prepared for a group of progressive clergy in the United Kingdom who posed this question: What must be done to rebuild America after Trump. This message proposes 4 key responses: Massive campaign finance reform. A restoration of the FCC's Fairness Doctrine. A renewed commitment to education. An emphasis on vital but achievable goals around which we can unite.

In the novel, Love in the Time of Cholera, two young lovers are thwarted in their desire to be together, only to be given a second chance at love when they are old. Still, though about half of us now live alone, that does not mean that we have to give up on hope that we, even in our later years, might not have, at long last, a real opportunity for a meaningful connection. This sermon speaks to the stresses we are feeling, a year into our pandemic, that might tear at the fabric of existing relationships and dash hopes for single people of ever making a meaningful connection. Regardless of the challenges, as the poet Marty McConnell has written, "You deserve a lover who takes away the lies and brings you hope, coffee, and poetry."

It's now common for us to hear false accusations that social justice movements are just "ideological poison" and honest treatments of the more difficult aspects of US history are just "toxic propaganda." Activists and historians alike have come under increasing attacks, especially when it comes to racial justice, while so-called "patriotic education" programs have inspired conspiratorial beliefs and Capitol riots. Over the last year, the 1619 Project and the 1776 Commission have become symbols of these two approaches, reminding us that how we remember the past impacts how we deal with the present. And how we deal with the present shapes the possibilities of creating a better, more just, more compassionate, and more livable future.