Since the turning of the year, many of us have felt the tremors of our nation’s turmoil moving through our own lives. What we witness in the headlines does not stay “out there.” It enters our homes, our conversations, our bodies bringing grief, anger, fear, confusion. These emotions are real and human, and they ask something of us.

On February 6, we were honored to be in conversation with two courageous leaders of a growing multi-faith movement: Rev. Paul Brandeis Raushenbush and Dr. Katharine Rhodes Henderson. Alongside our colleague Carolyn Buck Luce and hundreds of participants online, we listened as they described what unfolded in Minneapolis during the recent ICE occupation.

More than a thousand religious leaders from across traditions gathered there. Rabbis, pastors, imams, priests, and lay leaders stood shoulder to shoulder in bitter cold and rising tension. In the aftermath of violence and loss, they returned again and again — not with retaliation, but with prayer, song, and steadfast nonviolence. They brought moral presence into a dangerous moment.

Their example raises an important question for all of us: How do we show up where we live?

One message rang clear: Do not try to do this alone. Find your sangha. Find your people.

If you are part of a congregation, organize within it. If you cherish libraries, pay attention to what is happening there. Attend city council meetings and speak out respectfully and courageously. Join local movements committed to peaceful civic engagement. There are many local chapters of Indivisible, the group organizing the March 28 NO KINGS demonstration – get involved. Volunteer as a poll worker or observer to protect the integrity of our elections. And of course, stay in contact with your elected representatives, especially if you might influence a change. Democracy is not a spectator sport, it’s a participatory practice.

Perhaps the most demanding invitation is this: speak with those who disagree with you. Not to win or to shame, but to understand. A simple question such as, “How are you feeling about what is happening right now?” can open a door that argument never will.

And don’t forget the children. They are absorbing more than we realize. Create space for their questions. Offer steadiness more than certainty.

Paul and Katharine reminded us that tending our own souls is not a luxury; it is a discipline. In times of upheaval, the temptation to harden is strong. Yet hatred corrodes the vessel that carries it. We must care for our physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being so that our action arises from love rather than fear. Hold fast to the vision of the future you want to see. The more beautiful world your heart knows is possible is not naïve fantasy. It is a compass.

And yes, even for those masked men with guns — pray. Not in sentimentality, but in fierce commitment to their awakening. Pray for the maturing of our nation as well. We are still young in the long arc of history and still struggling to embody the promises written at our founding.

As Thích Nhất Hạnh said, the next Buddha may not arrive as a single enlightened being. It may emerge as us — together — practicing courage, compassion, and collective care.

We invite you to engage with the full conversation that inspired this reflection and to explore the links shared there, including a message from our dear friend Rev. Cameron Trimble, who reminds us each time:

We are in this together.

With love and steadfast hope,

Lynne and Sara