nothing matters from my window seat I can see a bench concrete sides holding wooden slats under the tree that has taken a century to grow beyond the telephone pole meet me there with nothing other than a cup of coffee, or a pup leave anything that beeps or vibrates and we will linger with…
People who think poetry has no power have a very limited understanding of what power means.–Christian Wiman If you look up power in the dictionary, the definitions revolve around influence and control, as in the power to make people do what you want. If you look at the way we talk about power these days,…
One of the songs sure to show up over the next few weeks is “Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus.” In our congregation, we sing it to the HYFRODOL tune, which is warm and familiar to me. As long as I have heard the story of Jesus’ birth, it has had expectations attached to it: the people…
On my train ride to Grand Central Station, the penultimate stop is Harlem/125th Street. Once the doors close, it takes about fifteen minutes to go the last eighty blocks to the terminal on 42nd Street. The closer we get, the slower the train goes. Passengers get up, put on coats, and line up in front…
I deactivated my Twitter account last week, in part because I have never been able to fully understand how to use it, but mostly because I think it takes more than 240 characters to communicate well with one another. That our politicians have allowed themselves to use it as their primary means of communication is…
I preached this morning at the First Church of Christ, Congregational in East Haddam, Connecticut. They are a wonderful congregation. The text was Luke 1:67-79: Zechariah’s words after his son, John, was born. Here’s what I had to say. Our scripture this morning picks up in the middle of a story, which I guess is…
I learned to write in Africa. The school was taught in English, which is a more layered story of conquest and colonialism. By the time I got to Lusaka Infants’ School, it was the only language taught. At the top corner of my desk was a hole that held an inkwell. As we began to…
You may notice that the site looks different than before. I am in the middle of a number of changes—many of which I don’t yet know how to make. One of the changes is to get back to posting recipes. For now, rather than posting them on my recipe blog that has been quiet for…
The theology of boxed pews. Ginger mentioned that she overheard our new ministerial intern use the phrase in a conversation. It stuck with me. Box pews allowed allowed families to sit together in a regular spot and provided shelter from cold drafts. They were typically purchased or rented by families and the cost could be…
It has been a long time since I watched any kind of news on television. Neither Ginger nor I make a practice of watching the news before we go to bed, but last night Ginger had it on for a minute and heard the story of Debra Stevens’ drowning somewhere in Arkansas and her interaction…