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A large group of protesters, including clergy, gathered outside Terminal 1 at Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport in St. Paul in frigid, sub-zero temperatures on Friday, January 23, 2026 to demonstrate against the ongoing immigration enforcement operations in the Twin Cities metro area, Operation Metro Surge.
The Trump administration carries out policy violence that directly contradicts everything that Jesus taught. It’s time to make some noise.
On Palm Sunday, March 29, thousands of Christians across denomination, geography, culture, and race will be out in the streets. We will sing. We will pray. We will march. We will magnify our God in Jesus Christ who came among us to love, liberate, teach, heal, and give us abundant life. We will renounce the death-dealing cruelty, lies, and greed of our federal administration and demand a society that is rooted in love of neighbor—in feeding the hungry, caring for the sick, and welcoming the stranger.
We believe that the time is now to publicly reclaim the heart of our faith with spiritual and moral clarity and with committed, disciplined action. Over these last months, I and my neighbors witnessed firsthand the terror of Operation Metro Surge. We saw constitutional observers harassed, followed, detained, and—in the case of Renee Good and Alex Pretti—killed by Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers. We saw neighbors—children, elders, mothers, fathers—abducted from bus stops, childcare centers, homes, and workplaces. We then heard government officials lie about what we witnessed with our own eyes.
Operation Metro Surge has ended in Minnesota, but our free fall into authoritarianism has not. When our government funds detention centers and war and gives tax breaks to the richest Americans, all the while making devastating cuts to healthcare, food assistance, and other programs that better peoples’ lives, we cannot stay silent. This is policy violence that directly contradicts everything that Jesus taught. It’s time to make some noise.
Our Palm Sunday Faith Actions are inspired by the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on a donkey, surrounded by crowds who hailed Jesus as Lord and shouted “Hosanna!” meaning, “Save us!” The subversive nature of Jesus’ action here cannot be overstated. In a city under the grip of Roman rule, calling anyone "savior" or "lord" besides Caesar Augustus was dangerous. The imperial cult was the "religion" of the land, requiring submission to Caesar above all. And yet, as Jesus enters Jerusalem, the crowds make a bold public counterclaim with their shouts of “Hosanna.” Jesus is cast as a fulfillment of words spoken by the prophet Zechariah about a humble king of peace:
He will cut off the… war horse from Jerusalem;
and the battle bow shall be cut off,
and he shall command peace to the nations.
(Zechariah 9:10)
Jesus’ entry, then, was no mere parade—it was risky, disruptive, and tension raising. We read in Luke’s account that the Pharisees try to get Jesus to tone it down: “Teacher, order your disciples to stop!” These well-meaning words remind me of the white clergy in Alabama who told Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King that his direct action campaign to desegregate Birmingham was “unwise and untimely.” But like Dr. King in Birmingham, Jesus stays the course with prophetic clarity.
Matthew dramatizes the tension even more: “When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil” (Matthew 21:10). The Greek word here translated as “turmoil” is related to the word seismos, meaning earthquake. This connection helps us see a deeper meaning: Jesus came to bring about a seismic shift in the way we live, love, and perceive God’s work in the world. Jesus came to shake up the very foundations of human society. His way of humble service and self-giving love make the tectonic plates of empire rumble and crack.
If we keep reading in Matthew’s gospel, we find another seismic event—this time, on that early morning when the women come to the tomb that holds Jesus’ crucified body. An earthquake erupts as an angel arrives and rolls the stone away that had sealed the tomb up tight. In this resurrection dawn, we see that what seems solid and fixed in the eyes of empire can be changed, moved, and shattered in the light of God’s love.
This Palm Sunday, we will be part of the turmoil and part of the quaking. We will be part of the crowd, praising Jesus as the one who saves us and seeking to live out his command to love God and neighbor. Together, we will be a surge of love and nonviolence, care and compassion. We hope you will join us in the streets.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
On Palm Sunday, March 29, thousands of Christians across denomination, geography, culture, and race will be out in the streets. We will sing. We will pray. We will march. We will magnify our God in Jesus Christ who came among us to love, liberate, teach, heal, and give us abundant life. We will renounce the death-dealing cruelty, lies, and greed of our federal administration and demand a society that is rooted in love of neighbor—in feeding the hungry, caring for the sick, and welcoming the stranger.
We believe that the time is now to publicly reclaim the heart of our faith with spiritual and moral clarity and with committed, disciplined action. Over these last months, I and my neighbors witnessed firsthand the terror of Operation Metro Surge. We saw constitutional observers harassed, followed, detained, and—in the case of Renee Good and Alex Pretti—killed by Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers. We saw neighbors—children, elders, mothers, fathers—abducted from bus stops, childcare centers, homes, and workplaces. We then heard government officials lie about what we witnessed with our own eyes.
Operation Metro Surge has ended in Minnesota, but our free fall into authoritarianism has not. When our government funds detention centers and war and gives tax breaks to the richest Americans, all the while making devastating cuts to healthcare, food assistance, and other programs that better peoples’ lives, we cannot stay silent. This is policy violence that directly contradicts everything that Jesus taught. It’s time to make some noise.
Our Palm Sunday Faith Actions are inspired by the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on a donkey, surrounded by crowds who hailed Jesus as Lord and shouted “Hosanna!” meaning, “Save us!” The subversive nature of Jesus’ action here cannot be overstated. In a city under the grip of Roman rule, calling anyone "savior" or "lord" besides Caesar Augustus was dangerous. The imperial cult was the "religion" of the land, requiring submission to Caesar above all. And yet, as Jesus enters Jerusalem, the crowds make a bold public counterclaim with their shouts of “Hosanna.” Jesus is cast as a fulfillment of words spoken by the prophet Zechariah about a humble king of peace:
He will cut off the… war horse from Jerusalem;
and the battle bow shall be cut off,
and he shall command peace to the nations.
(Zechariah 9:10)
Jesus’ entry, then, was no mere parade—it was risky, disruptive, and tension raising. We read in Luke’s account that the Pharisees try to get Jesus to tone it down: “Teacher, order your disciples to stop!” These well-meaning words remind me of the white clergy in Alabama who told Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King that his direct action campaign to desegregate Birmingham was “unwise and untimely.” But like Dr. King in Birmingham, Jesus stays the course with prophetic clarity.
Matthew dramatizes the tension even more: “When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil” (Matthew 21:10). The Greek word here translated as “turmoil” is related to the word seismos, meaning earthquake. This connection helps us see a deeper meaning: Jesus came to bring about a seismic shift in the way we live, love, and perceive God’s work in the world. Jesus came to shake up the very foundations of human society. His way of humble service and self-giving love make the tectonic plates of empire rumble and crack.
If we keep reading in Matthew’s gospel, we find another seismic event—this time, on that early morning when the women come to the tomb that holds Jesus’ crucified body. An earthquake erupts as an angel arrives and rolls the stone away that had sealed the tomb up tight. In this resurrection dawn, we see that what seems solid and fixed in the eyes of empire can be changed, moved, and shattered in the light of God’s love.
This Palm Sunday, we will be part of the turmoil and part of the quaking. We will be part of the crowd, praising Jesus as the one who saves us and seeking to live out his command to love God and neighbor. Together, we will be a surge of love and nonviolence, care and compassion. We hope you will join us in the streets.
On Palm Sunday, March 29, thousands of Christians across denomination, geography, culture, and race will be out in the streets. We will sing. We will pray. We will march. We will magnify our God in Jesus Christ who came among us to love, liberate, teach, heal, and give us abundant life. We will renounce the death-dealing cruelty, lies, and greed of our federal administration and demand a society that is rooted in love of neighbor—in feeding the hungry, caring for the sick, and welcoming the stranger.
We believe that the time is now to publicly reclaim the heart of our faith with spiritual and moral clarity and with committed, disciplined action. Over these last months, I and my neighbors witnessed firsthand the terror of Operation Metro Surge. We saw constitutional observers harassed, followed, detained, and—in the case of Renee Good and Alex Pretti—killed by Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers. We saw neighbors—children, elders, mothers, fathers—abducted from bus stops, childcare centers, homes, and workplaces. We then heard government officials lie about what we witnessed with our own eyes.
Operation Metro Surge has ended in Minnesota, but our free fall into authoritarianism has not. When our government funds detention centers and war and gives tax breaks to the richest Americans, all the while making devastating cuts to healthcare, food assistance, and other programs that better peoples’ lives, we cannot stay silent. This is policy violence that directly contradicts everything that Jesus taught. It’s time to make some noise.
Our Palm Sunday Faith Actions are inspired by the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on a donkey, surrounded by crowds who hailed Jesus as Lord and shouted “Hosanna!” meaning, “Save us!” The subversive nature of Jesus’ action here cannot be overstated. In a city under the grip of Roman rule, calling anyone "savior" or "lord" besides Caesar Augustus was dangerous. The imperial cult was the "religion" of the land, requiring submission to Caesar above all. And yet, as Jesus enters Jerusalem, the crowds make a bold public counterclaim with their shouts of “Hosanna.” Jesus is cast as a fulfillment of words spoken by the prophet Zechariah about a humble king of peace:
He will cut off the… war horse from Jerusalem;
and the battle bow shall be cut off,
and he shall command peace to the nations.
(Zechariah 9:10)
Jesus’ entry, then, was no mere parade—it was risky, disruptive, and tension raising. We read in Luke’s account that the Pharisees try to get Jesus to tone it down: “Teacher, order your disciples to stop!” These well-meaning words remind me of the white clergy in Alabama who told Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King that his direct action campaign to desegregate Birmingham was “unwise and untimely.” But like Dr. King in Birmingham, Jesus stays the course with prophetic clarity.
Matthew dramatizes the tension even more: “When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil” (Matthew 21:10). The Greek word here translated as “turmoil” is related to the word seismos, meaning earthquake. This connection helps us see a deeper meaning: Jesus came to bring about a seismic shift in the way we live, love, and perceive God’s work in the world. Jesus came to shake up the very foundations of human society. His way of humble service and self-giving love make the tectonic plates of empire rumble and crack.
If we keep reading in Matthew’s gospel, we find another seismic event—this time, on that early morning when the women come to the tomb that holds Jesus’ crucified body. An earthquake erupts as an angel arrives and rolls the stone away that had sealed the tomb up tight. In this resurrection dawn, we see that what seems solid and fixed in the eyes of empire can be changed, moved, and shattered in the light of God’s love.
This Palm Sunday, we will be part of the turmoil and part of the quaking. We will be part of the crowd, praising Jesus as the one who saves us and seeking to live out his command to love God and neighbor. Together, we will be a surge of love and nonviolence, care and compassion. We hope you will join us in the streets.