Be a Peacemaker

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Good Sunday morning.

Today is Palm Sunday, a holy day of reverence in the Catholic tradition. As a child, this day was always about receiving a palm at the church door and then spending the day trying to twist it into something it wasn’t. Reflecting on that now, I realize there was a life lesson hiding in those folded leaves.

So many of us spend our lives trying to twist people we love into who we think they should be, rather than accepting them as they are. We do the same thing to ourselves. We push and push, convincing ourselves that who we are isn’t enough and that we have to become something better or different. We strive for an elusive “more” and never stop twisting.

Years ago, my nephew, who was in a new relationship after a broken engagement, said to me: “In this relationship, I love who she is, not who she will become.” That stayed with me.

Acceptance is what we all aim for. It doesn’t mean we stop caring or growing. It just means seeing someone clearly, loving them as they are, and still walking beside them as they evolve.

I think the same is true for our country. Acceptance doesn’t mean we stop showing up or working toward change. It means we do so from a place of clarity. It means we show up because we love our nation and still believe in it.

Yesterday, people in big cities and small towns took to the streets, not because they’ve given up on America, but because they still believe in it. They’re tired of feeling like no one is in charge. Tired that the people who are supposed to be keep twisting and twisting our nation into something we don’t recognize anymore.

Right now, air travel feels downright dangerous. Gas prices are out of control. People are downright scared, and yet no one seems to be paying attention to the mental health crisis, or to the childhood vaccine schedule, or to school safety. It feels like no one can decide what to do about this escalating war, or who’s in charge in the first place.

Meanwhile, a recent survey revealed that one-third of Americans are having to cut spending or borrow money to afford health care costs. And another report out this past week announced that family caregivers now provide $1 trillion worth of care annually.

Saturday’s No Kings rally wasn’t my first march, but this one felt different. It felt like people coming together not just in anger, but in hope. There were so many different speakers, and so many signs on diverse issues. Everything from signs about the Iran war to the climate to ICE and immigration to protecting our democracy. Protestors were young and old, white, Latino, Black, and Asian, gay and straight.

People came out in masses from different backgrounds and for different reasons, but together we were peaceful, joyful, and determined not to give up on our nation.

We came together with a shared belief that we can do better. We came together because we long for community and to feel like we all belong. We came together because we love what our country has long stood for and because we want to protect that.

Photos courtesy of the hundreds of protesters yesterday who answered Maria’s call for photos of their signs.

In church last Sunday, our Deacon Ellie Hidalgo spoke to all of us wrestling with something—be it our country, our loved ones, ourselves, or our faith—and reminded us that in the face of death, the Lord promises to restore life.

She also spoke of the raw vulnerability that follows loss: the grief, the anger, even the rage. She reminded us that Mary and Martha wrestled, too. Facing the death of Lazarus, they questioned Jesus, saying, “Had you been here, our brother would not have died.” They questioned. They struggled. Yet they stayed in the relationship.

And that was her message to us: It is okay to wrestle. Just don’t stop the dialogue. Don’t stop showing up. Don’t stop bringing your full self, even your anger, into the conversation. Because that is where we are met. And being met is a gift we all deserve.

Then she asked: How are we being called to create peace? How are we being called to build cultures of peace in a time of such violence?

I keep thinking about that because I believe we are all being called to be peace-builders at this moment. Maybe this is where it all comes together. We stop trying to twist. We stop trying to make others see what we see, think what we think. We accept. We let go. We stand by one another. And we act from a peaceful place, not a twisted one.

We tend to our own tender, fragile lives, and we do the same for others. We stay in relationship with the people we love, with our communities, and with our country, even when it’s hard (and I know it’s hard for so many right now). Staying in conversation, especially when it’s hard, is important.

This week we spoke to Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way, about the unexpected ways we connect to something larger than ourselves. She says that igniting our creativity ignites our spirituality. This Palm Sunday is not just about what we wave in the air. It’s about what we carry in our hearts.

Palm Sunday is not just about what we wave in the air. It’s about what we carry in our hearts.

Next Sunday is Easter, the day the Bible tells us Jesus rose from the dead. It’s a day that calls all of us to rise, regardless of what religion or tradition we come from. But here is the truth: you don’t rise without first wrestling. You don’t rise without grief, without doubt, or without asking hard questions.

This week marks Holy Week and the beginning of Passover: two sacred invitations to reflect, especially in times like these.

Because life is so unpredictable. One day you can feel on top of the world and like everything’s in order. The next day, you can find yourself facing unimaginable loss. We saw that this week as we watched Savannah Guthrie describe the unbearable agony of not knowing what has happened to her mother, who has been gone now for seven weeks. One day everything is in order, and then in an instant you are in a nightmare. The same is true for those who have lost sons and daughters in this war. One day everything is okay, then the next, your entire life feels like it’s over.

How we meet these moments matters. Do we shut down? Do we give up and isolate, convinced no one understands? Or do we walk with others who have wrestled too and allow ourselves to be lifted? These are the questions worth wrestling with. Because if we want to rise in our lives and as a country, then we cannot give up on one another. We have to stay in it. Stay in the conversation, stay in the tension, stay in love, and stay in relationship. Because that is where the rising begins.

So this week, give yourself some peace. Build it first within yourself—in your heart, your mind, your home—and then carry it with you. Into the meeting. Into the traffic. Into the TSA lines that are testing everyone’s patience.

In these moments, don’t twist. Don’t harden. Don’t walk away. Stay. Listen. Lead with peace. That’s my intention this Holy Week.

I always think of my parents during Holy Week. They went to church every single day of their lives. During Lent, they took my brothers and me to 6:45 a.m. Mass every morning. And on Good Friday, they took us to church and made us sit there from 12 to 3. No phones. No distractions. Just silence.

Imagine that. Time to reflect. Time to think. Time to have a conversation with God.

Every Holy Week, I come back to that. I also come back to my father’s words, which feel especially urgent right now when the world feels loud, divided, and on edge.

My father said: Go out and be a peacemaker. Because in the end, it will be the peacemakers, not the warmongers, who save us all. No truer words have ever been said.

So maybe the ask of all of us is simple: be a peacemaker. It is indeed holy work.

Also in this week’s issue:

• When Spirituality Is Found Where You Least Expect It