Theological Reflection at 29th and Pillsbury
Good Friday Pilgrimage
April 3, 2026
Rev. Dr. Rebecca Voelkel
The story that Claire just shared, was one that was replicated all over our Cities. Sometimes there were whistle-blowing kindred who tried to stop what was happening and they were successful. But here, as in so many places, those who witnessed the terror could not stop it. They simply had to bear witness. It is an excruciating task, this bearing witness without being able to stop it. But it is a sacred role.
Mary, the mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, Salome, and John fulfilled the same role as they stood at the foot of the cross while Jesus was crucified. Unlike their kindred disciples they neither denied Jesus, nor ran away. Instead, they witnessed. They held vigil with Jesus. Even as Roman soldiers mocked and scorned, showing off their weapons, Mary, Mary, Salome, and John accompanied Jesus amidst the pain and suffering. This is sacred work. When we can’t prevent violence and terror from happening, this kind of accompaniment is some of the deepest acts of love. It is sacred solidarity.[1]
Today we are affirming, over and over again, that we never valorize or celebrate the cross. Instead the cross is a sign, as Delores Williams says, of God’s solidarity with the world’s crucified. Jesus’ life of healing and action to resist the Roman Empire that leads him to be executed as a political prisoner is an act of solidarity with all that Empire seeks to crucify. She calls it the solidarity of the cross.
Today we are invited to consider both of these kinds of solidarity… God’s solidarity with those crucified by Empire here and now… and our sacred solidarity… refusing to flee in fear, refusing to let our neighbors suffer alone… and, instead, bearing witness… and taking care of the car left behind, weeping with the family of those abducted, holding on to dignity, no matter the mocking and scorn directed our way.
This kind of deep solidarity causes us to tremble and weep and mourn. And we must not shy away from the grief. We must honor it… for those crucified and for the witnesses.
But we might also hold on to the reality that those who do not flee, that whose who bear witness, and who grieve, are also often the first to bear witness to resurrection… for even as we mark the power of violence and death today—here in our Cities and across the world. We can claim the reality that violence and death are never the end of the story.
[1] Elsa Tamez in conversation with the author, 1994.
Good Friday Pilgrimage
April 3, 2026
Rev. Dr. Rebecca Voelkel
The story that Claire just shared, was one that was replicated all over our Cities. Sometimes there were whistle-blowing kindred who tried to stop what was happening and they were successful. But here, as in so many places, those who witnessed the terror could not stop it. They simply had to bear witness. It is an excruciating task, this bearing witness without being able to stop it. But it is a sacred role.
Mary, the mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, Salome, and John fulfilled the same role as they stood at the foot of the cross while Jesus was crucified. Unlike their kindred disciples they neither denied Jesus, nor ran away. Instead, they witnessed. They held vigil with Jesus. Even as Roman soldiers mocked and scorned, showing off their weapons, Mary, Mary, Salome, and John accompanied Jesus amidst the pain and suffering. This is sacred work. When we can’t prevent violence and terror from happening, this kind of accompaniment is some of the deepest acts of love. It is sacred solidarity.[1]
Today we are affirming, over and over again, that we never valorize or celebrate the cross. Instead the cross is a sign, as Delores Williams says, of God’s solidarity with the world’s crucified. Jesus’ life of healing and action to resist the Roman Empire that leads him to be executed as a political prisoner is an act of solidarity with all that Empire seeks to crucify. She calls it the solidarity of the cross.
Today we are invited to consider both of these kinds of solidarity… God’s solidarity with those crucified by Empire here and now… and our sacred solidarity… refusing to flee in fear, refusing to let our neighbors suffer alone… and, instead, bearing witness… and taking care of the car left behind, weeping with the family of those abducted, holding on to dignity, no matter the mocking and scorn directed our way.
This kind of deep solidarity causes us to tremble and weep and mourn. And we must not shy away from the grief. We must honor it… for those crucified and for the witnesses.
But we might also hold on to the reality that those who do not flee, that whose who bear witness, and who grieve, are also often the first to bear witness to resurrection… for even as we mark the power of violence and death today—here in our Cities and across the world. We can claim the reality that violence and death are never the end of the story.
[1] Elsa Tamez in conversation with the author, 1994.
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