Politics, Power and Jesus

Coming along Spencer St at the Manchester-East Hartford line on fall day, I saw an uncommon sight: political signs, stuck into the grass along the side of the road, touting the names of those running for office. It was a national election year, and both party’s signs were vying for space. This by itself is commonplace— however, these signs were placed just outside a cemetery. I could see the headstones with their names printed on them in the same view. The juxtaposition of these two name bearing signs seemed somehow ironic— a reminder that though the world operates on popularity and power, it all leads to the same place. No matter who won the election, the names on those signs would be names

It's All About That Grace

A little over year ago, I sat in a nearby church at Dean’s funeral. Dean had died suddenly, in his late 50’s—a shock to everyone. He was a gregarious guy, and had many friends, and so people gave a number of remembrances. The word most often used to describe Dean was “authenticity” but I think a better word for Dean was “unapologetic.” Because Dean was not only a generous guy who would give you the shirt off his back style your hair for free, or cook you a sumptuous feast-- he could also be a piece of work. For example, a dear friend shared a story about a time when he broke his leg and was in a cast from hip to toe. He worked at one of the area insurance companies with Dean-- one that was

Naked Before Christ

When my son Joel was a baby, every night we would give him what we affectionately called “Nudie Time.” The baby books we’d read had said that babies are more active when they are not clothed and that being undiapered for a short time was good for preventing rash. So every night we put down the water proof mat, stripped him down, and watched him roll around. He had such a good time! We played with him and tickled his perfect skin and admired the unspeakable beauty of his naked little body. I didn’t always think of nakedness as beautiful. I remember travelling to Sweden as a teenager, and seeing children playing in a public fountain in the nude. I was scandalized, though the children were unde

Brother Sun and Praying Mantis

One September day while pulling a few weeds in my garden, I noticed a praying mantis on a flower. On a nearby bloom, an unsuspecting fly gathered pollen. As I watched, I saw the praying mantis turn slowly – imperceptibly--- toward the fly. And then in an instant—snatch! The fly was dinner. I stood in awe. The patience of the mantis as it slowly turned toward the fly the power of the attack the speed with which the mantis struck It left me speechless. The natural world can inspire wonder. Mary Oliver catches it in her poem, The Summer Day. She describes lying on her stomach in a field, watching a grasshopper. She asks: Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the g

Since some can not make it to church every Sunday, here's a glimpse into the sermons from recent worship services.  


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