There they stood. Blacks and whites, side by side. Holding hands. Heads bowed, eyes closed. All praying together to the same God.

It was an uncommon sight, as America’s churches remain among the most racially divided of institutions. Perhaps the fact that it was so unusual made the sight so strikingly beautiful. United in grief, hope and faith, even if only for a brief time, color didn’t matter.

Of course, we all know that color shouldn’t matter. And maybe what we learned from last week’s community prayer service is that it no longer has to. Because if we are holding our neighbor’s hand and our eyes are closed in prayer and our thoughts are focused on loving our neighbor as we do ourselves, it doesn’t take long to lose track of the color of the hand being held tightly in your own.