Category: First Peter (Page 3 of 3)

The Bible Is Fun! – From the Daily Office – January 23, 2014

January 23, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Book of Genesis:

The Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which mortals had built. And the Lord said, “Look, they are one people, and they have all one language; and this is only the beginning of what they will do; nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Genesis 11:5-6 (NRSV) – January 23, 2014.)

Construction of the Tower of Babel by Pieter Bruegel the Elder I’ve never quite understood the story of the tower of Babel. I get that it’s an etiological myth to explain the variety of languages spoken by human beings, but the picture of God that it paints is (shall we say?) less than positive. Might it have been better to cast someone else (say the Tempter?) as the “bad guy” who thwarts the plans of the tower builders?

As the story of God and God’s People develops over time and through the pages of Scripture, we learn that God’s goal is that “they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you,” or at least that’s what Jesus said (John 17:21). The apostle Paul proclaimed this Good News setting out that the goal was that all people, indeed all things, be put in subjection under the Christ and ultimately under the one God “so that God may be all in all” (1 Corinthians 15:28). And his colleague, Peter, argued that preachers should speak as if speaking the very words of God so that “God may be glorified in all things through Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 4:11).

It’s not just the New Testament that proclaims this goal of universal solidarity. Solomon proclaimed in prayer that the goal of his kingdom was “that all the peoples of the earth may know that the Lord is God; there is no other” (I Kings 8:60). The prophet Isaiah proclaimed that “in days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it” (Isaiah 2:2).

So, if that has been God’s goal all along, isn’t God’s fit of pique at the plain of Shinar just a wee bit counterproductive?

Playing with questions like that is why I so enjoy studying the Bible; the Bible is fun! So, I get really annoyed when someone treats it as some sort of scientifically or historically accurate text, and robs it of its capacity to provide fun and enjoyment.

It’s a bunch of stories and other sorts of literature! It’s a bunch of often contradictory stories, myths, poems, histories, memoirs, and so forth which, despite their contradictions (and often because of them) point to a truth that transcends our mundane perceptions. Sure, if I were writing a single text to tell the story of God, I’d use the Babel story quite differently and tell it from a very different perspective. But that’s not how the Bible came to be and, thanks be to God, I don’t have to write God’s story! Suffice to say that the Bible is not a history book; it’s not a scientific text. It’s a library, a collection of all different sorts of literature.

These texts must be read in light of each other. The prophet’s vision of the nations streaming to a temple on a hill and Jesus’ prayer for unity among all peoples (the prayer is not just about his followers) provide lenses through which we view the myth of the tower at Babel; the story of the tower provides a critical backdrop and foundation for the prophecy and the prayer. So, I may not understand the story of the tower of Babel standing alone, but I understand it in context. I understand it as a part of a synthetic whole (synthetic in the sense of dialectic synthesis, not as “artificial” or “unnatural”).

I’m not going to write a synthesis of these stories this morning (and probably not ever), but I am going to start the day acknowledging that, if the Bible is anything, it is fun!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Clergy Cufflinks – From the Daily Office – December 7, 2013

December 7, 2013 / eric / 1 Comment

From the Psalter:

The Lord has sworn and he will not recant: “You are a priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 110:4 (BCP Version) – December 7, 2013.)

Clergy Cufflinks I have a pair of cufflinks with part of this verse inscribed on them in Latin: “Sacerdos in Aeternum” (“Priest Forever”). They were given to me as an ordination present. I seldom have reason or opportunity to wear them as I don’t generally wear long-sleeved, let alone French-cuff, shirts. But yesterday I did.

At my parish, our chapter of the Episcopal Church Women holds an annual “English Cream Tea” on the Friday nearest St. Nicholas Day. This is the group’s big fund-raiser for the year and it is a major undertaking. Yesterday was the day! The 21st Annual St. Nicholas Tea.

We are in the process of expanding our church building, specifically the fellowship area and gathering space, and the Tea was the first major event in the not-quite-finished new space. It took a lot of work by a lot of people to get things cleaned up, set up, and ready to go. It took more work by more people to host the event, seat the guests, serve the tea, run the gift shop which is part of the event . . . and then, after 140 guests (in two seatings) had enjoyed their tea and tid-bits, to tear it all down, clean it all up, and put it all away.

I wore my “Sacerdos in Aeternum” cufflinks because each year I join other men in the parish assisting the ladies. We dress in formal wear to do so. It’s the one day each year that I get to wear my tux, French-cuff shirt, silk waistcoat, and those cufflinks. Together, the day, the cufflinks, and their engraved message are a reminder that a priest is a priest in community. It is the community of the church which discerns the call to ordination, nurtures the priest in formation, ordains him or her to the office, and sustains his or her presbyteral ministry. Clergy do not minister in isolation.

Nor are the clergy the only ministers in the church. In my tradition (the Episcopal Church), our catechism reminds us that “the ministers of the Church are lay persons, bishops, priests, and deacons.” (BCP 1979, page 855) We take seriously the Reformation idea of the priesthood of all believers. We are a community of priests, some ordained to the sacerdotal priesthood, but all of us part of the “royal priesthood” about which Peter wrote in his first epistle, “a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” (1 Pet. 2:9)

That Light is coming into the world. Be alert, be prepared. It’s Advent!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Like a Lawnmower — From the Daily Office – November 28, 2013

November 28, 2013 / eric / 0 Comments

From Matthew’s Gospel:

[Jesus said:] For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Matthew 20:1 (NRSV) – November 28, 2013.)

Man Mowing a Lawn I had to read the first line of this familiar parable three or four times this morning before my eyes (it had to be my eyes; it couldn’t have been my brain) focused well enough to properly read the word landowner. On first reading, I read it as lawnmower.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a lawnmower . . . .”

What!?

I read it again; same thing! Shake my head; drink some coffee; look again. Oh! Landowner!

So I read the rest of the story about the vineyard owner hiring men in the morning, more at noon, a last bunch late in the day . . . and then paying them all the same wage. “So the last will be first, and the first will be last.” (v. 16) Nice counterpoint to the really awful bit of the First Letter of Peter appointed for today: “Slaves, accept the authority of your masters with all deference, not only those who are kind and gentle but also those who are harsh.” (1 Peter 2:18)

Although I really feel like I should be contemplating the issues of economic justice the two readings present, especially on Thanksgiving Day when I must acknowledge that I am so blessed and there are so many who aren’t, that has to be a conversation for another time. Meditating on the daily readings, I just kept coming back to my blurry-eyed misreading of the text.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a lawnmower . . . .”

Several weeks ago, back when it was warm and the grass was growing and it hadn’t rained for a few days so the dirt wasn’t spongy and the grass wasn’t too wet and I could mow the lawn, that’s what I was doing. Running the machine in long, curving swaths across our hillside back yard, I noticed a praying mantis in the piece I’d be covering in the next pass. The insect was bright green, about two inches long, and apparently injured.

Sure enough on my next pass there it was, right in front of the lawnmower. I disengaged the mower blade, disengaged the self-propelling mechanism, powered down the engine, set the brake, and walked around to scoop up the bug. I carried it to the edge of the lawn, to a flower bed where we have planted day lilies, forsythia, and butterfly bush, and set it among the plants. I hoped that I hadn’t been responsible for its injuries and that it would regrow whatever limb it was missing. (I think mantids are like crabs, that they can grow back whole limbs.) I walked back to the mower, re-engaged all the mechanisms, released the brake, and resumed my mowing.

So I think I can see how the kingdom of heaven might be like a lawnmower, if the word is understood to refer to the person doing the mowing, not to the machine.

I’m still working on the machine as a metaphor for heaven . . . I’ll probably be working on that one all day. Reading scripture in the early morning does that, sets my mind spinning and whirling and chopping away at these images, the ones actually in the bible and the extrabiblical ones my blurry-eyed imagination puts there. All day long. These images and metaphors challenge preconceptions, whack down received wisdom, pulverize prejudices, slice through both silly and profound notions, and mix my thoughts and the things I think I know all together in a rich mulch from which new ideas often grow and old ones give fruit.

Interestingly, a colleague yesterday commented on Facebook: “One of the things I am thankful for is the interesting dialogues and debates that can be fostered via Facebook. We may not always agree on any number of a wide variety of issues, but it is always interesting and informative to see the diversity of opinions that are offered on any number of topics from Ashes to Go, to politics, to how we prepare recipes, to how to approach some of the pressing social ills of our day, and so on and so forth. For me it helps further develop my own thoughts and perspective.” That’s my take on it, too, and it’s a lot like the processing I do as I reflect on biblical and extra-biblical metaphors; it all gets mashed together into a fertile mass.

So today while I’m at church presiding at the Eucharist, at home roasting a turkey, later in the day playing dominoes with friends, that’s what will be happening. I’ll be thinking about strange metaphors, about contemplation, about Facebook conversations, and what it all might teach, because “The kingdom of heaven is like a lawnmower . . . .”

Thanks be to God!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Ransom Revisited — From the Daily Office — November 26, 2013

November 26, 2013 / eric / 0 Comments

From the First Letter of Peter:

You know that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your ancestors, not with perishable things like silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without defect or blemish.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – 1 Peter 1:18-19 (NRSV) – November 26, 2013.)

Handcuffs & Money I will go on record has being not an adherent of the ransom theory of the Atonement, which holds that the death of Christ was a ransom sacrifice in satisfaction for the bondage and debt on the souls of humanity as a result of inherited sin (another theory, “original sin,” with which I have some strong debate). It is unclear to me exactly who is the recipient of the ransom. Depending on who is setting out the argument, the ransom is usually said to have been paid either to Satan, which I think makes the ol’ devil rather bigger than he ought to be, or to God the Father, which makes the Almighty considerably less than we ought to think of God.

Here in this verse from Peter’s first letter, however, I find some redemption of the ransom theory. According to Peter, the ransom is not for “original sin,” nor are we ransomed from Satan; we are ransomed “from the futile ways inherited from [our] ancestors.” In other words, we are freed from “the way we’ve always done it before.”

Some people call the way we’ve always done it “tradition,” and to a certain extent some of that is true. Tradition, however, is not a straight-jacket; it doesn’t lock us into a rigid, unchanging status quo. When tradition is used to do that, it is more properly called “traditionalism.” The church historian Jaroslav Pelikan, in a 1983 lecture entitled The Vindication of Tradition, said, “Tradition is the living faith of the dead, traditionalism is the dead faith of the living. And, I suppose I should add, it is traditionalism that gives tradition such a bad name.”

Another word for the way we’ve always done it is “habit.” There are good habits, like brushing one’s teeth, and there are bad habits, like picking one’s nose in public. And there are really bad habits we call “addictions.” It is the bad habits and addictions, “the futile ways” of the past, from which Peter tells us we are ransomed by the blood of Christ.

That’s a ransom theory of the Atonement that makes sense to me. Christ sets us free from the way we’ve always done it before, free to try new things, free to experiment, free to grow.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Nothing! – From the Daily Office – March 15, 2013

March 15, 2013 / eric / 0 Comments

From Paul’s Letter to the Church in Rome:

In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Romans 8:37-39 (NRSV) – March 15, 2013.)

Dissociative Disorder Illustration These may be my favorite words from the pen of the Apostle Paul. My mentor during my education for ordained ministry, who also became my first boss after ordination, often referred to these verses and would add, “Not even ourselves.”

But there are times when I wonder about things Paul seemed not to know about. Sure, he puts in that great, inclusive catch-all phrase “nor anything else in all of creation,” but what about drugs, addiction, mental illness, brain dysfunction . . . . What about the things that make us no longer us, the things that separate us from ourselves?

We human beings can suffer all sorts of trauma, large or small, that can lead to separation from ourselves, from others, and from the meaning of life. Even simple depression, anxiety, or just getting “off-track,” can create a sense of separation or alienation. We may feel like we are living in a sort of fog; our thinking may become clouded. We may find ourselves unable to access our feelings, and simply not be aware of or engaged in the world around us. We seem to be functional, but we are living a life separated from ourselves and from those who love us. Dissociation becomes a way of life. People in such a state are vulnerable to quick fixes and bad habits, behaviors and addictions that promise quick relief.

My father was an alcoholic who drove off in the middle of the night, angrily separating himself from his family, and a few hours later dying in a single-vehicle automobile accident. He was “not himself;” he was, in a real sense, separated from himself. My mother-in-law took years to slip away deep into the darkness of Alzheimer’s disease; for the last few years of her life, she wasn’t there. In a very real sense, she was separated from herself.

Last Sunday’s gospel lesson was the parable of the prodigal son, a story of separation and estrangement. The story is that the younger of two sons demands his inheritance from his father, takes the money and squanders it, and ends up living as a starving swineherd in a foreign land. There is this wonderful line in which Jesus says of him, “When he came to himself he said, . . . ‘I will get up and go to my father . . . .'” (Luke 15:17-18) “When he came to himself…;” he was separated not only from his father, but from himself. Nonetheless, that separation was overcome and there was reunion first with himself and then with his father.

I do believe in divine grace that precedes any human decision we may make. God’s grace operates in no way dependent on anything we may have done or failed to do. In the words of The Book of Common Prayer, God’s “grace . . . always precedes and follows us” (Collect for Proper 23, pg 234); it allows us to engage our free will to choose reunion, to choose to not be separated, to choose salvation. And I hope that God makes that choice for us when, because of mental illness, alcohol, drugs, brain dysfunction or injury, or whatever reason we are unable to make it for ourselves, when we cannot “come to ourselves.” Because nothing can “separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord,” not even ourselves. Nothing!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Mean Spiritedness and Holy Scripture – From the Daily Office – March 1, 2013

March 1, 2013 / eric / 8 Comments

From the Gospel of John:

Jesus said: “You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on my behalf. Yet you refuse to come to me to have life. I do not accept glory from human beings. But I know that you do not have the love of God in you. I have come in my Father’s name, and you do not accept me; if another comes in his own name, you will accept him. How can you believe when you accept glory from one another and do not seek the glory that comes from the one who alone is God? Do not think that I will accuse you before the Father; your accuser is Moses, on whom you have set your hope. If you believed Moses, you would believe me, for he wrote about me. But if you do not believe what he wrote, how will you believe what I say?”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – John 5:39-47 (NRSV) – March 1, 2013.)

Bible Title Page It’s called bibliolatry and it’s been around a long, long time. The dictionary definition of bibliolatry is “excessive reverence for the Bible as literally interpreted.” What I most enjoy about modern bibliolatry is that it denies that it is bibliolatry in the most circular and bibliolatrous of ways.

For instance, this is from a website that claims its stance on Holy Scripture is not bibliolatry because of what Scripture says about itself:

It is important to understand what the Bible says about itself. Second Timothy 3:16-17 declares, “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.” So, if the Bible is “God-breathed,” and “God does not lie” (Titus 1:2), then every word in the Bible must be true. Believing in an inerrant, infallible, and authoritative Bible is not bibliolatry. Rather, it is simply believing what the Bible says about itself. Further, believing what the Bible says about itself is in fact worshipping the God who breathed out His Word. Only a perfect, infallible, omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient God could create written revelation that is itself perfect and infallible.

In so many words what this says is, “The Bible is inerrant and infallible because it says it is.” It doesn’t actually (that is not a valid interpretation of Second Timothy or Titus), but is anything else (other than, perhaps, the holy books of other religions) given that kind of reverence? Is any other source of information permitted that sort of self-validation without question?

The Jews of Jesus’ day did not (and to this day do not) view Scripture as inerrant, but those to whom Jesus was speaking did rely on the Torah quite heavily; they gave it, perhaps, excessive reverence. The Pharisees did search the scriptures for rules of behavior and piety because they thought that in them they would find eternal life. In this regard, I believe, the evangelical literalists resemble them with their approach to the Bible as inerrant and infallible.

At a meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society, Professor J.P. Moreland of Biola University said:

In the actual practices of the Evangelical community in North America, there is an over-commitment to Scripture in a way that is false, irrational, and harmful to the cause of Christ. And it has produced a mean-spiritedness among the over-committed that is a grotesque and often ignorant distortion of discipleship unto the Lord Jesus.

It’s that mean spiritedness that concerns me. It has spread throughout the Christian community, not simply among Evangelicals. It seems to me that we are all, to one extent or another, bibliolatrists. We may not consider the Bible inerrant and infallible, but we have our favorite bits of Scripture that we emphasize and hold in “excessive reverence” . . . and when our particular position on some issue is challenged, we can all be mean-spirited and often are. When that happens, the Scriptures are our accuser. Just as Jesus said to the Jews about the Torah, so we should think of the New Testament:

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” (John 15:12 NRSV)

“Be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.” (Philippians 2:2 NRSV)

“You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'” (James 2:8 NRSV)

“Finally, all of you, have unity of spirit, sympathy, love for one another, a tender heart, and a humble mind.” (1 Peter 3:8 NRSV)

“Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:18 NRSV)

“May mercy, peace, and love be yours in abundance.” (Jude 1:2 NRSV)

In our several liberal denominations, we may not take the Bible literally; we may not consider it completely authoritative in all spheres of life. I, for one, do not. The Bible is not a scientific text; it is not a history book. When poetry in the Bible says that mountains skipped like rams or hills like lambs (Ps. 114), I do not take that as a literal fact. When the creation stories of Genesis say that God created everything in six days or made humans out of mud, I do not take that as scientific fact. When the Bible says the sun stood still and the moon stopped for a day, I don’t take that to be a historical reality. (Joshua 10:13) I take these tales seriously. I believe that they reveal truth, but I do not believe they are factual. In the same way, I take John, Paul, James, Peter, and Jude seriously.

If we give into mean spiritedness, it is they who will accuse us. And we will be convicted.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Christ the King Among the Amish – From the Daily Office – November 25, 2012

November 25, 2012 / eric / 0 Comments

From Peter’s First Letter:

In your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord. Always be ready to make your defence to anyone who demands from you an account of the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – 1 Peter 3:15-16 (NRSV) – November 25, 2012)

Amish Buggy and Cart in Ohio Today is the last Sunday after Pentecost called “the Feast of Christ the King.” A relatively new feast on the calendar of the church, it was instituted by a 20th Century pope and originally set in late October as a response to the Protestant celebration of “Reformation Sunday” on the Sunday closest to October 31, the anniversary of Luther’s posting on the Wittenburg chapel door. The latter, I would suppose, started with the Lutherans but has spread throughout American Protestantism; I know of Presbyterian, Reformed, UCC, and Methodist churches that mark it. I know of no Episcopal congregations that do so. Episcopalians did take to Christ the King, however, and since Paul VI moved it to the last Sunday of the Christian year, every congregation I’ve been a part of has celebrated it. With the adoption of the Revised Common Lectionary, it is now an official part of our tradition.

Today, my congregation will be celebrating it without me. My spouse and I have taken a break and, since Friday, have been staying in a retreat facility not that far away from our home geographically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually a very, very long distance separate this place from that. We spent yesterday indulging our hobby of “antiquing” – wandering aimlessly through several of the amazing collections of junk one finds in the abandoned supermarkets, retired barns, and former garages now called “antique malls.” There are several in the Amish Country of Ohio, where we are.

The Amish are an interesting people. They quietly and steadfastly maintain a traditional way life hundreds of years old, one dating back to their formation as a Protestant sect in German-speaking Switzerland. Eschewing automobiles, they drive boxy black buggies down the state highways and country roads. Claiming not to use electricity, they have gas lights or kerosene lanterns in their homes and businesses, except when they don’t – I admit to being befuddled by this; I can’t figure out when it is OK to use electricity and when it isn’t. And then there is the use of batteries by those who “have no electricity” (as one shopkeeper put it); batteries power buggy lights and sometimes business lighting (but “we have no electricity”). I don’t get it it, but that’s OK – that’s not what this meditation is about.

What makes the Amish most interesting is that they go about this odd, set-apart way of life “with gentleness and respect.” I nearly wrote above that they maintain their traditions “unobtrusively,” but that really wouldn’t have been accurate. They are obtrusive! Come upon a horse-drawn farm cart plodding along a 55-mph-speed-limit highway or a buggy on a 35-mph country lane, roads which are winding and hilly and have limited visibility, and (believe me) it’s an obtrusion! Often a deadly one for the Amish if the automobile driver doing so is not paying attention or has poor reactions.

In stores, the Amish men with their broad-brimmed hats, long beards, and plain rugged clothing, and the Amish ladies with their long skirts, dark sweaters, and hair done up in buns under starched linen caps, are very noticeable, whether they are service personnel or are themselves customers. In restaurants, which they rarely but occasionally patronize, their large families pausing to say grace in antiquated German before eating are a reminder that while they are sanctifying the Lord, we are not. That’s obtrusive . . . but oh so gentle and respectful.

That is the nature of the King whom we sanctify today on this special day of remembering his lordship. He gave vent to flashes of anger, of course, and there are plenty of hints throughout the Gospels that he was, rather often, frustrated and unhappy with this followers, but we mostly remember him as gentle and reverent. “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild” is a phrase I remember from a hymn we learned in my Methodist Sunday School days of long ago.

The Gospel lesson for today’s celebrations of the Holy Eucharist is from John: Pilate questioning Jesus before his crucifixion. Jesus, the epitome of gentleness and respect, answers Pilate calmly, or stands silently, when he could have taken complete control of the situation, called down the wrath of God, and established an earthly kingdom right then and there. Instead, he takes complete control of the situation in another way, the way of gentleness and peace.

I think that’s what I find most compelling and oddly attractive about the Amish. They are in complete control of their lives, as narrow and confined as they may seem to a modern outsider like myself. They go about their traditional ways in the midst of the madness around them, the speeding cars, the frantic shoppers, the hurried diners too busy to say grace; they don’t give in to modern pressures. They just keep plodding along like the horses pulling their carts and buggies, doing faithfully what they know they are called to do. They are a Protestant’s Protestants, children of the Reformation started when Martin Luther nailed those theses to the Wittenburg door, but more than any Solemnity declared by pope or any dictate of the lectionary, they stand testimony to the power of gentleness and respect, a potent reminder of Christ the King.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Category: First Peter (Page 3 of 3)

The Bible Is Fun! – From the Daily Office – January 23, 2014

Clergy Cufflinks – From the Daily Office – December 7, 2013

Like a Lawnmower — From the Daily Office – November 28, 2013

Ransom Revisited — From the Daily Office — November 26, 2013

Nothing! – From the Daily Office – March 15, 2013

Mean Spiritedness and Holy Scripture – From the Daily Office – March 1, 2013

Christ the King Among the Amish – From the Daily Office – November 25, 2012

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The Bible Is Fun! – From the Daily Office – January 23, 2014

Clergy Cufflinks – From the Daily Office – December 7, 2013

Like a Lawnmower — From the Daily Office – November 28, 2013

Ransom Revisited — From the Daily Office — November 26, 2013

Nothing! – From the Daily Office – March 15, 2013

Mean Spiritedness and Holy Scripture – From the Daily Office – March 1, 2013

Christ the King Among the Amish – From the Daily Office – November 25, 2012

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