This morning before church I read more of Seven Thousand Ways of Listening by Mark Nepo. He talked about how being on a snowy road one night sent him into a memory about his father. Nepo said, “When I returned to the snowy road, I wasn’t sure which road I was on.” Reflection on his…
spring forward it is a childish act of communal arrogance to think we can change what time it is simply by agreeing to do so the sun will be nonplussed in its rising and setting, no stars will be dismayed the moon will not be late we have given our folly a name that smacks…
I started a new book today. I haven’t finished any of the others I am currently reading, but that never stopped me before. The book is Seven Thousand Ways to Listen: Staying Close to What is Sacred by Mark Nepo. It was a gift from a church friend who knows about my struggle with my…
I saw an article several weeks ago that said a study had shown that people who surround themselves with books they have not read are better adjusted because they are continually reminded of all they do not know. I didn’t even have to finish the article to feel vindicated in my life choices. Right now,…
I’ve known this was coming for weeks. Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of my commitment to write every night during Lent. The mark on my forehead is a harbinger of marks on the page. But I wasn’t sure what I had to say, other than I meant to write more often during Epiphany. On the…
Here is my Easter sermon from this morning at First Church of Christ Congregational of East Haddam, Connecticut. “They Were Terrified . . .’ Mark 16:1-8 When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on…
This morning a group of us gathered at church for breakfast and reflection together on “tomb time.” The experience led me to these words. tomb time there was dead silence from those trapped outside the tomb not a word about where they went or if they stayed together they didn’t know they were waiting it…
cross words growing up it was nothing but the blood as though violence was an answer we’ve seen enough history to know that blood doesn’t wash clean as much as it stains, colors almost everything whole civilizations built with wood and nails and blood by the time it was finished Jesus said he felt forsaken…
My meditation for our Maundy Thursday service tonight at First Church of Christ in East Haddam, Connecticut. _________________________________- For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke…
wandering holy week is slipping by (so are a lot of things) and I wonder how it felt that first time around looking for donkeys and then washing coats setting up the upper room holy errands, yes, but still things to get done . . . by the time they finally sat down for dinner…