In a time of grief and fear, of isolation and overwhelming need, hope comes in the form of loaves and fishes, hotdogs and apples.
The Parable of the Wheat and Weeds is tough one, but there is room in my mountain field for both cultivated roses and wild Queen Anne’s Lace.
We will not be gathering again in our sacred space as a community…. well, not yet. But where does that leave us, now? We remain in a time of holy longing. But God does not live in the churches we build. God for whom we long is already close by.
Jesus came out of the empty tomb, into an empty burial ground. On that empty Sunday morning, even more empty than this church right now, only Mary Magdalene appeared. Perhaps, today is the most authentic Easter ever.
This year, I read about Jesus washing the disciples’ feet, and I can see for the first time the tenderness of him touching them at all. What I see, most of all, is what is around the edges of this scene. This story does not tell us about service in the abstract. It tells us about the choice to love in a particular time and place—a place which is, in a way different and yet also like ours, frightening.
Jesus approached the village of Bethany and the grief of family and friends moved him to tears. Lazarus emerged from the grave and was transformed. At a time of physical distancing, the world is more connected through shared common experience than at any other time in human history. Will we be transformed when the timeContinue reading “Jesus wept, and Lazarus emerged.”