“Build houses and live in them, plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there…
I am a huge fan of dystopian literature and film, although I am finding I am not a particularly big fan of actually living in a dystopia. And with staying at home so much, I am not sure my partner…
More than six centuries later, Julian of Norwich still speaks to modern Christians caught, like her, in the clutches of another “Great Pestilence.”
This pandemic is not a theological crisis. It’s a moral one. We would do well in this moment to take the prophet Jeremiah’s advice to “put on sackcloth, lament and howl.” We need to mourn and rage and contemplate what led us to this moment.
The story of Lot and Sodom is relevant and timely, if we see it as a story of radical hospitality.
Never before in my lifetime have I feared for democracy, for the rule of law, for basic truthfulness and honesty, for human decency and kindness. But the cosmic Christ still calls us to live in hope, even when despair seems strong.
On Ash Wednesday, I will try to reconcile with a Jesus who stands before me, ready to offer the love I desperately need. I will try to find his hand amid my darkness, a brokenness that has nothing to do with my sin.
Perhaps the only way to really experience Christmas as it was intended is to renew the faith of a pre-Christmas people who did not yet know the Savior whose justice and righteousness we seem to stubbornly resist at every turn
The Simeons and Annas keep the faith when we cannot. Their praises become our praises. Their disappointments reflect ours. Their hopes become our hopes. Their constant murmured prayers help sustain us.