Theology for Breakfast: Forward Day by Day May June July 2025

Every morning I read the scripture assigned by the Episcopal Book of Common prayer, then relax into a short reflection on those readings offered by a different writer every month for the quarterly Forward Day by Day. Every quarter I've culled highlights. See my responses going back to 2013.

May 2025 - Reflections by Fr. Neil Kumar Raman Rector of Grace Church in Haddonfield NJ, Fr. Raman reports that he is a double bassist and that he loves to cook South Indian food.

Raman tells of a visit to a beautiful church in Poland built under USSR's oppressive atheism, one brick at a time over a period of 20 years. Townspeople would each lay a single brick at the end of their day's work. Raman compares this approach to that of a mentor who made a habit of writing a thank-you note every day. Think of a "brick" to offer God each day - "a cup of coffee, a held door, the opportunity to make a left turn at a stop light." He asks, how are you building your life as a disciple, brick by brick?

A different small church embarrassed Raman by "a generous act of giving" (James1.17) making him and his friend the guests of honor. Awkward, yes, and awe-inspiring. "We drove back in silence."

Were it not for Raman, I might have continued to overlook the significance when Jesus says to his disciples, "Let us go to the other side" of the Sea of Galilee. People on the other side were not Jews. This was an invitation to reach out to communities likely hostile to Jesus and his disciples.

At funerals, we take comfort in a line from Romans 14:7-8, "Whether we live or die, we are the Lord's." In context, Raman points out, the emphasis isn't on someone who has died but on the way we LIVE with each other, fearless even of death.

When Jesus says, "Let not your heart be troubled," he still bears the wounds of his Crucifixion ordeal. Faith does not insulate us from pain.

And I'm always grateful for anyone who highlights Luke 12.25, "Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?" Raman even worries that he's worrying. Humor counteracts the toxin of worry.

June 2025 - Reflections by Sarah Shipman Responding on Trinity Sunday to the eighth chapter of Proverbs, Shipman teaches that "wisdom" in ancient Israel was about preserving order. In this chapter where Wisdom is personified as a woman, there's another side to wisdom: "We would do well to be reminded of the beauty and blessing of wonder an imagination, of the joy that comes in waiting for the Spirit to guide us to the truth. May we, like Wisdom, adore all God's marvelous deeds and be ever mindful that we are part of creation and charged with its care."

July 2025 - Reflections by Roger Hutchinson The writer has written elsewhere about his ADHD, anxiety, and bouts of depression. These topics inform his reflections on Scripture, too.

For July 4th, he chose a line from Hebrews 11, "they were strangers and foreigners on the earth...seeking a homeland" (v.13-14). Recalling his transient childhood (11 "homes" in 17 years), he asked what "home" really means. I took that idea to mentor training with Education for Ministry, and the theological reflection took off! He ends with the idea that we must be "home to ourselves."

Reading that "something like scales fell from [Paul's] eyes," Hutchinson is reminded of a lesson learned during a mental health crisis, that passive "looking" is not the same as active "seeing," which is an art to cultivate. The lesson comes up again after Psalm 50.11, "I know every bird in the sky." Hutchinson took walks to get out of the house during COVID, and noticed more birds each day. When he got a better camera, he took photos and learned to appreciate these fascinating creatures. "I took comfort in the psalmist's promise that God knows all the birds of the air... and God knows me."

He admits that he often yawns during a recitation of the Lord's Prayer (Luke 11.1), but "not because it's boring." Rather, these familiar words give him peace. He asks what we remember about learning the Lord's Prayer.

On Johann Sebastian Bach's birthday, the Psalm includes this wonderful line: "Wake up my spirit, awake lute and harp; I myself will waken the dawn." Hutchinson's appreciation of Bach is crowned by the fact that the composer inscribed his work with the phrase, "To God be all the glory." Hutchinson asks how we can praise and honor God through creative work - writing, knitting, designing, woodworking. I'd add, writing poetry and blogs.

The Glow of Transfiguration

Yesterday, the Feast of the Transfiguration, I read Bible stories of Moses and Jesus, their faces glowing after encounters with the Lord. I imagined the glow of Jesus as any boomer would -- an eerie emanation or force field.

Then my little dog Brandy sat beside me, eyes glowing with her gratitude for the home I provide and her anticipation of whatever wonderful thing might happen next.

Later, at the church office, we had visits by some little ones recently baptized at St. James, Wells and Tomas. They, too, looked as if each new sight was a delightful surprise.

I wonder if the glow of Transfiguration has less to do with something that we see in a holy person, and more to do with our reflection of how they see the world with wonder, love, and praise?

[This commentary was first printed in the church newsletter that I edit, The Bells of St. James.]

The Joy of Spider-man: Poet's second take on Miles Morales

In 2023, poet / author Jason Reynolds published his second Spider-man novel Miles Morales: SUSPENDED and I didn't wait to buy and read it. But I've waited until now to write about it. I've re-read it, and have decided to accentuate what I love and to keep my reservations in reserve.

As a boomer, I was surprised this century to learn that the Marvel Universe had expanded. The Spider-man I grew up with was a white teen named Peter Parker who gained super-powers from a radioactive spider's bite. Now we learn about parallel universes where other young men and women have that same experience. In 2016, I read the YA novel by Jason Reynolds, Miles Morales: Spider-man about a 15-year-old boy in Harlem whose father is African-American and whose mother is Puerto Rican. He's a scholarship student in a mostly-white private academy in Manhattan. The novel, which I read in ten-minute intervals during my 7th graders' "drop everything and read" period, inspired one of my best blogposts ever.

In Miles Morales Suspended, Reynolds continues the story. Miles is suspended from class for participating in a protest against the white supremacist version of American history being taught in their class. With an assortment of classmates, including his crush and a nerdy library assistant (secretly possessed by a supernatural entity), he's stuck in a classroom with two proctors and a pile of work to do. Each teacher has sent him an assignment to make the young man reflect on his own character through subject-appropriate metaphor. For example, reminding Miles how brown bananas emit ethylene that turns nearby yellow bananas brown, the Chemistry teacher asks Miles to reflect on times he may have been a yellow banana or a brown one.

While this set-up locks the action into one classroom and one school day broken into one-hour periods, it also gives Miles (and Reynolds) lots of opportunities to take flight in verse. Miles discovered poetry in that first novel. In this one, most of the action is interior, and a lot of the lines in this book don't reach the end of the page.

Still, my favorite part of the book takes place during the night before the day of his punishment. When his jovial roommate Ganke is fast asleep, Miles suits up and goes to the window. Pausing to look at the skyline, he imagines "all the stars that were supposed to be there had fallen, and now sparkled much closer to the ground" (44). A deep breath, and then he jumps -- into some of my favorite poetry in the book:

AIR begins "When I'm in / the air / I feel // free. Like something / someone / has // let go of." By the end of the poem, the lines have led Miles to wonder at himself: "I feel / like I can / let go."

In the next moment, he literally lets go, free-falling before he shoots a web. For an exhilarating paragraph, we experience Spider-man's web-slinging from the inside, as he leaps from building to building, soon landing at the top cables of the Brooklyn Bridge. He sees the lights of Times Square from a distance, and there follow some memories of that place, including an incident when he chased down a pickpocket to retrieve an old man's wallet -- and left the desperate pickpocket with money from Miles's own pocket.

That section is so vivid and joyful that I've remembered all its details since the book was new.

I reopened the book this week because I heard Jason Reynolds on NPR. The format of the interview show is to ask famous people a personal question drawn from a deck of cards. I didn't catch the question, but the answer endeared Reynolds to me. He is taking care of his elderly mother these days, "bathing the only Creator he has ever touched, the vessel who gave me everything I have become." He is determined to "maintain her dignity and comfort." He says to her, "I'm going to help you transition ... after you taught me to be bold."

His Miles Morales, too, expresses love and gratitude for family as he struggles to be as good as they want him to be.

There's probably a psalm for that

(This article appeared in this week's issue of The Bells of St. James, the newsletter that I edit for my church St. James Episcopal, Marietta.)

We appreciate a note that Betty Berry sent this week about the 10:30 service Sunday. She writes, "The choir sang of murmuring doves. Meanwhile in a bush near our sanctuary window, a nest full of doves rejoiced in their own way: lively and loudly. Quite special." (For the words, see #513 in the 1982 hymnal.)

A verse that we sang on Sunday also connected to a member of our parish choir, Dr. Walter Ligon. We sang Psalm 16, which contains this line, from verse 6: Indeed, I have a goodly heritage. That verse is inscribed in Latin on a medallion that Walter obtained during a visit to the chapel of St. Leonard in his ancestral place of origin, Newland in the district of Malvern, Worcestershire, England. He polished the medallion Monday and brought it by the office. His ancestors left there during the Civil War -- not the American one, but the one with Cromwell in the 1640s. He would love to sit and tell you the story!

Lanie Baxter shared this photo she took during her recent travels of an ancient replica of the still more ancient Book of Kells. The replica is preserved under glass.

The "illumination" of the gospels by the beautiful images calls to mind Psalm 119.30, The unfolding of your words gives light.

Sue Hannan, away visiting family, sent photos from where she's staying in the Finger Lakes region of central New York state. One scene calls to mind Psalm 65.8, You make the dawn appear on the earth and the sunset shout for joy.

Another book of songs in the Hebrew scriptures gives an apt response to Sue's second photo (inset), Flowers appear on the earth and the season of singing has begun (Song of Songs, 2.12).

Mother Mariclair took the selfie below when she visited the Altar Guild's coffee last Saturday. Showing up hours and even days before a service, they prepare for regular Sunday worship and special occasions, such as Wednesday's funeral for Billy Akins. Psalm 122.1 comes to mind, I was glad when they said to me "Let us go to the house of the Lord."

Did you know that your phone can play all of Psalms in a 30-day cycle at the Forward Day by Day website? The magazine's director says that he has been listening to the whole collection every month for a couple of years, now, and it's made a big difference in his life. I'm giving it a try, listening to psalms and the other readings for the day while I go about my morning routine.

Pray like Wolves

Right now, in time zones around the world, there are Episcopalians with prayer books open to morning prayer, or services for noonday and evening. They're in church, or they may be in small groups, or they may be at home alone, perhaps with a dog at their feet.

Some Christian traditions don't value prayers from a book. They believe prayer should be spontaneous.

But I'm comforted, even awed, by the thought that fellow Episcopalians in all their circumstances, pray the same words, silently or aloud. At communion, I sometimes think how my kneeling, my holding up of my hands, and my sipping the wine, join me to churches across the country, across the sea, and even across centuries.

Can prayer be spontaneous and come from within? We know that it can. Can such prayers meander and become a kind of personal performance? We know that it can. Our church gives us carefully prepared prayers with room for spontaneity.

For me, our ritual prayers call to mind, not a flock of sheep and a shepherd (root meanings of congregation and episcopal), but wolves.

In the Bible, wolves are vicious and fearsome, except for that wolf in Isaiah that lies down with the lamb. Jesus warns his disciples that they go into the world as sheep among wolves, and he says to beware false prophets who are "wolves in sheep's clothing."

Our culture has a different outlook on wolves. Because we hunted wolves almost to extinction, they have official protection. Except where they prey on domesticated animals, wolves have our sympathy, too. They've become symbols of strength, self-reliance, and pack solidarity. We've made wolves into team mascots and namesakes for super-heroes.

Wolves' baying at night may sound mournful to us, but no study has conclusive answers to why they do it. The wolves may be expressing belonging or psyching themselves up for the hunt. Maybe they're expressing hunger. Whatever they express, they're like my little terrier mix when she barks with the neighbor's Pomeranian at twilight, having a great time.

It's remarkable that wolves match each other's pitch and rhythm. Whether they're with the pack or alone far away, they're on the same page.

The nightly ritual of the wolves came to mind during a theological reflection in my Education for Ministry seminar (EfM). A participant shared her story: A beloved member of a close-knit summer camp cohort had committed suicide during the past year. The young woman relating the story told us that the old friends gathered in silence, finding no words for their feelings. It just felt right, she said, to hike to the camp's waterfall, as they had done many times before. Arriving at the place, they still said nothing. Then, spontaneously, they re-enacted a ritual familiar to Episcopalians from Holy Week: They washed each other's feet.

Like the wolves, they were each in their own place, inside their own thoughts and feelings, and yet together in this ritual.

The young woman, looking back, says there was mournfulness in this, and loss, but also a shared knowledge that they were serving each other in a way that goes back 2000 years. This shared action, though wordless, was instructive, and transformative.

Church should be more than a place to learn lessons, a place to meet like-minded people, or even a place to ensure our own salvation. Whatever the wolves are doing, raising their voices as one from their distant places, we also are doing as we kneel, hold hands up in supplication, confess together, and pray together -- from the same page.

Prayer - to - Square: Moving Church back to the center of town

Sunday, Jan Wilsden celebrated her 90th birthday with her family. She and husband Derek grew up in a place and time when the village church was literally at the center of everyday life. The church spire could be seen from everywhere (inspiring!) and bells rang for prayer morning, noon, and night. Would we all be more mindful of what Mo Mariclair called the abundance of God's love if we could all put St. James at the center of our lives that way?

Actually, St. James does still stand at the center, at least on Saturdays. Like the village markets of olden times, the Marietta Farmers Market sets up every Saturday morning where the sounds of our tower bells reach the stalls. Parishioner Susan Rouse has done the bulk of her shopping there for many years. It's a community, she says, where farmers, chefs, and discerning consumers all know each other. And it's all blessed by the bells of St. James.

After worship services, parishioners who don't go home right away can sample an abundance of good things, many of them family-friendly. This past week, as I came out of the Polk Street gate, I saw Jessica Reynolds and Matilda returning from an excursion via the Mountain-to-River Trail (M2R). They were passing by the striking works by professional artists and art students, all local. Some of the works are beautiful, some are surprising, all are intriguing.

If it's history that interests you, go down hill from the railroad tracks to the home of our church's founder William Root. Keep going, and you'll find our St. James Cemetery, where Root is NOT buried, because his wife disapproved of Episcopalians. To find where he's buried, go to the Marietta Cemetery located along the M2R trail not far from where the Reynolds ladies are standing. (I've walked my little dog that way many times.)

Mid-way there's the Marietta Museum, where grandparents might enjoy showing grandkids the toys and record players of the remote 1960s, and the 1940s-vintage kitchen that's just like their grandma's.

Then, there are opportunities for exercise. One Sunday, I saw a parishioner in track clothes running from our Polk Street lot towards Kennesaw Mountain on the M2R. I had just seen him dressed in his Sunday best at the hospitality hour. With a change of clothes, he used St. James as a base for his run. Inspired by his example, this past Sunday I brought my road bike and cycling shorts for a thirty minute round trip to the battlefield park. (See photo below) Another time, I'll leave from church to explore the way to the Chattahoochee River. (Call it Narthex-2-Spandex)

When we start our new series of Wednesday Family Game nights, consider coming to our regular Evening Prayer service, 20-30 minutes long, playing games until 8, and then strolling altogether to Marietta Square for ice cream at Sarah Jean's, a couple of doors away from the space where William Root ran his pharmacy, now housing a bakery.

And think of how you might invite neighbors or co-workers for worship and a stroll into town. Call it Prayer-2-Square.

This article was written for The Bells of St. James, the newsletter that I send out every week.

It's a Wrap

The bucks that stopped here are moving on. ("Dear Buck," said Lanie Baxter, "we will miss you!")

All the portraits of shady-looking lawyers have disappeared.

With them go the 2019-vintage desktop computers, boxes of fake legal documents, South Carolina lawbooks with the shelves that bore them, and heavy ornate furniture. Also gone are yard upon yard of thick cables, the trucks and cranes that filled our parking lots, and sheets of plastic wrap that protected our carpets when filming crews came in.

In other words, the filming of The Murdaugh Murders has finished. This week, the post-op crew removes the set pieces and restores our walls and halls to their ante-Murdaugh condition.

The Last Day I was at church before 7a on Friday for the last day of filming. Jim Chester relieved me around 10a. Bill Eubanks was here that evening from around 4p to 8:39p when the director yelled, "It's a wrap!" Bill wrote in an email that there was "much applause and hooting."

The end came not a moment too soon, according to Bill, since the thermostat had been re-set to cool the actors and crew who were crammed into our conference room with hot lights. "I won't say it was cold," Bill wrote, "but we pulled everything out of the kitchen freezers and huddled inside to warm up!"

The production wrapped early despite an unwelcome interruption. All work suspended when the fire alarm went off. Only later did Bill discover why: the Fire Safety Officer had unwittingly set off the system himself. Andrea Keener, member of both our church and the studio team, was relieved to hear it: "At least we know none of the crew was trying to get to recess early!"

The very next morning, a crew that Bill re-named "Tony and the Divine Dustbusters" came in to prepare the church for services. They cleared walkways, vacuumed, mopped, and wiped surfaces.

The Sequel Wednesday, film crew, actors, costumers, and even caterers came back for a single shot. All they needed was a train to blow past "Alex Murdaugh" at the crossing.

Marietta police closed a lane on Polk Street, crew kept their equipment ready, and the actor waited in a vehicle with the appropriate 2019 South Carolina license plate.

(Photo: At noon, Angel was optimistic that a train might show up before dark. It didn't happen.)

But our train, having delayed or interrupted numerous scenes throughout this project, didn't make an appearance.

Angel, the site manager, explains that Homeland Security regulations prevent the studio from seeing the schedule for trains.

L-R, Jim, Erik, Bill, Lia and Andrea. The studio awarded Jim a badge for his stunt work, for the film day in March when he took a dive out of a doorway.

On Thursday this week, Jim, Bill, Building Superintendent Erik Linso, the studio's site manager Lia Towers, and location scout Andrea Keener met for a walkthrough of our campus inside and out. They know each other well after sharing many 16-hour days. They compared church furniture and decor to photographs made in January. They also checked on floors, ceilings, walls, doors, walkways, landscaping etc. to list items for repair, cleaning, and painting.

Then this adventure will be over for good. "Unless," Sue Hannan wondered. "What if Murdaugh wins an appeal?" Stay tuned. Know any good news items about goings-on in the parish? Share them with me at the communications desk.

[This is this week's "Pulse of the Parish" column for the Bells newsletter of St. James Episcopal Church, Marietta GA]

Life on a Movie Set

Every day this week, from as early as 5:30a to as late as 11p, the Parish Hall was crowded with actors donning costumes and getting made up. Both parking lots were full of trucks and cranes. Dozens of men and women hauled things up and down the halls. [This is from the newsletter I edit at St. James Church, issued April 24 in the week following Easter Sunday]

The Marietta Daily Journal staked out St. James, reporting when "a dark van" left the premises, but no one on the crew would open up about what exactly was happening inside.

PHOTO: Life on a movie set: your Communications Director on Tuesday took a selfie near the elevator. The air was thick with smoke -- and drama!

Our Lawrence Chapel made a great setting for the funeral scene. That's artificial sunlight: the sky was dark. When the double doors open during a dramatic confrontation, it's not a parking lot you see on screen, but green hills and blue sky.

For parishes less accustomed to the film industry, all this activity might be very exciting. For the people of St. James, it's just another movie week.

But it was the film crew who got excited when a bird flew in the double doors by the parish hall. He took a tour of the halls before resting in the parlor, which had been set up for a scene.

Work was suspended for this emergency. The little guy bumped his head and left a little smudge of blood on the ceiling tile. He was dizzy awhile, but recovered and flew off to the nave. Someone played bird calls on their phone, hoping to entice him out the double red doors.

The story is picked up there by Lucia Bird (no relation), who was in the nave with Flower Guild cleaning up after Easter services:

He/she seemed to enjoy flying back and forth from the loft to the wall behind the altar. Several times he lighted on the children’s cross. Finally, with the back and side doors open, he flew to the pews and hopped one by one to the last row and flew out the double doors.

Do you remember a few years ago, the bird that explored the nave during services for Pentecost? We wondered if it was a sign from the Holy Spirit. Sign or not, we are blessed by birds, as we read in Psalms 84:3-7, "The sparrow has found a home where she can raise her young, even by your altar, O Lord."

Theology for Breakfast: Forward Day by Day Feb - Mar - Apr 2025 + Breaking News!

Every morning I read the scripture assigned by the Episcopal Book of Common prayer, then relax into a short reflection on those readings offered by the quarterly Forward Day by Day. Every quarter I've culled highlights. See my responses going back to 2013.

Breaking News: Today, the author from Forward's January 2021 issue becomes the Rector of St. James, Marietta, the Church where I worship and work. She's The Rev. Mariclair Partee Carlsen, and I wrote an appreciation of her daily meditations years before I knew she would one day be my priest and my boss. See Comfort Food from Forward Day by Day.

February 2025 - Reflections by Nikki Mathis The writer is rector of her Episcopal church, "wife and mother to 4-legged and 2-legged kids." She often finds an angle on Bible stories that I've missed before, particularly in regard to helping people to feel their own value.

• Gal 3.28 is the famous phrase about how in Christ "there is no longer slave or free, male or female," but Mathis cautions that "everyone is equal" is different from "everyone is the same," and we all need to appreciate the differences.
• Jesus listens to the Syrophoenician woman after he initially rebuffs her, listening with respect, and is moved to act on her behalf.
• Mathis asks if we ever strike out in irritation when we're overwhelmed by personal crises and world news. Exasperated with the disciples, Jesus asks, "do you not yet understand?" With "yet," he implies that he's sticking with them even if they don't get it.
• He called Peter and Andrew from their fishing boat, without first interviewing them. He could imagine what they would become in his relationship with them. Us, too.
• Mathis sees that James and John aren't looking for power so much as reassurance that they will be okay in the time of trial to come. Jesus gives them a chance to commit to "rise to the challenge" and assures them, they will. We, too, should hear how people are often asking, indirectly, for reassurance that they're okay.
• Seeing how the crowd is annoyed by the blind man who calls to Jesus for help, Jesus stays put and tells those same people to bring the man forward, thereby enlisting them as partners in the cure that follows. Us, too.

Mathis's takes on these stories illustrate Maya Angelou's observation, "People will forget what you said, they will even forget what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel."

Reading Mathis in February prepared me for a chance meeting that month with a former student at a local food court. He called out, "Mr. Smoot???" I didn't know his name, how many years had passed since I'd taught him, or what subject that might have been. But I could (and did) say, "I've lost all the details, but I have a lot of strong positive feelings -- that you are courteous, curious, kind, and funny." He took a selfie with me "because no one will believe I saw you." I hope that means I made him feel valued, too.

Some other passages stand out in Mathis's writings.

"Blessed are those who mourn," Mathis quotes, for they have experienced love. Their mourning is a blessing. Mathis adds, "don't think" you win if you're the "one who mourns fastest" and "gets over it."

Mathis recalls being enthralled by the language of the Episcopal liturgy, so like the Arthurian fantasy books she read as a little girl. Yet the sonorous "prayer of humble access" also brought her close to God. "My little girl self still catches her breath at the thought."

The story of the widow brings the observation that she's giving her all, while everyone else is giving God a 10% tip.

In childhood, Mathis memorized Psalm 134, all two verses. Telling us of occasions when those words spoke to her, she observes, "What we pray when we pray together as a community forms us... I'm anchored... not only by the words said... but also by the power and presence of God experienced each time they are prayed."

March 2025 - Reflections by Tyler RichardsHe's an Episcopal priest at St. Anne's Episcopal Church in DePere, Wisconsin. Also, he's a birder, vocalist, and gardener, with wife and daughters.

When Hebrews tells us to pay attention, Richards notes the average adult's attention span is now only 8.53 seconds, so "Some of you will have stopped reading by now." I can relate to how the Sanctus bell brings his wandering mind back "to attend the mystery."

About humility, Richards says, "It's one thing to be zealous for God. It is quite another to inflict that zealotry on others." When you take God into "the marketplace," he writes, don't forget "God is God, and we are not." Also about witnessing, he remembers how the TV lawyer Matlock used to "crack" witness testimonies. Every day, Christians are on the stand about Jesus. He warns that, while we're not taken to court for our beliefs, we still are being scrutinized.

Richards tells about the first time he left his daughter at Preschool, how he could think of nothing else but her all day. Like the father of the prodigal son, like God. (And, I'll add, like me last month when I was in NYC away from Brandy.)

April 2025 - Reflections by Owene Weber Courtney The director of Christian Formation at St. John's in Jacksonville, Courtney has an educator's knack for clarifying the text with another story or image.

When Jesus says he's the shepherd who stands at the gate, I've always pictured a "gatekeeper," i.e., one who excludes the wrong kinds of sheep, people, whatever. Courtney says that the shepherd would lie down across the narrow gate so that any predator had to cross him first. Jesus is not excluding, but offering protection.

Responding to Acts 2.36 ("They were cut to the heart" with regret for killing Jesus), Courtney illustrates repentance with a familiar anecdote about the priest in a French village who excluded the body of a Protestant soldier from the church's graveyard. His comrades buried their friend as close as possible to the cemetery wall. But when they came to pay their last respects the next morning, they couldn't locate the site. The priest, who had been unable to sleep, repented his ban, rose in the night and moved the wall to include their friend. "Repentance," Weber quotes another source, "is moving beyond the mind you have."

A couple of meditations stand out because they don't offer answers to distressing questions. Isaiah's poetry imagines restoration, good news for the poor, sight to the blind, prisoners released from dungeons. "We struggle more to believe that God's plan for this hurting world will be enacted." Then, she responds to a bit of the letter 1 John 2.14, addressing "young people" who are "strong." Courtney observes that young people are missing from the churches nationwide. She hears from them, "They are tired of being lectured or sung to all the while not having a chance to ask questions, disagree, and engage" She has no easy answers, but holds on to John's statement that young people "are strong and the love of God abides in them."

The Day After Valentine's Day

Yesterday, several friends and relatives received this card from me and Brandy. Below is my poem for "The Day After Valentine's Day" (a.k.a. "Singles Awareness Day") from 2023 copied from my poetry blog First Verse.

Single on Singles Awareness Day and un-
aware, I scrolled through meme after meme
of loners at parties and tables for two with one,
but never the acronym.

It's SAD, they don't have to say to say, a disease:
My clinic offered S INGLES SHOTS.
At church we're listed with shut-ins and refugees
as Those Kept In Our Thoughts.

But what commuter in February rain
is not a refugee, alone,
and straining through frosted glass to see the lane
that's theirs but not their own?

In warmth at home through every page I read
and write exploring in aloneness,
God's restoring me. I've all I need --
the dog in my lap, a bonus.

Theology for Breakfast: Forward Day by Day Nov & Dec 2024, Jan 2025

Every morning I read the scripture assigned by the Episcopal Book of Common prayer, then relax into a short reflection on the reading offered by the quarterly Forward Day by Day. Every quarter I've culled highlights. See my responses going back to 2013.

November 2024 - Reflections by Jazzy BostockLove the name! She's a kanaka maoli in Hawaii, an Episcopal priest, farmer, wife, and foster mom.

The story of the rich young man prompts her to tell us that her congregation, far from affluent, sings a song based on that story. They have "wealth" in generosity. She asks us, "Where is your wealth?"

About the measure of yeast, she's amazed how one measure of yeast affects 60 pounds of flour, and how nonviolent resistance by just 3.5% of a population spurs political change.

Seeing Jesus moving forward despite the surety that he will be killed, she thinks of kuleana, the Hawaiian word for responsibility, combining ku for "standing tall and strong," and le'a, "joy." That's a beautiful way to see our prosaic concept of response.

The parables of lost things all end in parties. Jazzy observes that sharing joy multiplies joy for others.

December 2024 - Reflections by Deon K. JohnsonBorn and raised in Barbados, he's the first openly gay, first black, and first immigrant bishop to lead the Diocese of Missouri.

He tells of his parish's monthly community supper made special at Advent when the volunteers brought out the church's china and silverware. A guest told Johnson, "This is the first meal I have had since I lost my home where I didn't feel disposable." They'd always served disposable ware. Johnson realized, "We stumbled upon the gift of dignity in offering our best to Christ in disguise."

He derives some lessons from other writers. Theologian Karl Barth, asked for "his most significant theological insight," said, "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so." An ancient rabbi said you can know when the New Day dawns when you can see others as brothers and sisters -- till then, the world is in darkness. Someone said the opposite of faith isn't doubt; it's absolute certainty.

He draws on experiences in rural places. "Let us walk in the light of the Lord" (Is. 2.5) reminds him of the neighborhood children playing to the last bit of sunlight in summer, until the lights came on. He still remembers his grandmother's voice, and he assures us, we all know God's voice -- just listen. He owns chickens, he writes, each with her own distinct personality (one likes to climb on him when he brings out food), and they are "communal in the best and worst ways." They're not what comes to mind when he thinks of God, but that's the image in Mt 23.37. Johnson concludes, "there's deep wisdom in a chicken."

He may have been a witness to what he describes among the Bemba tribe in Zambia, where villagers ring an offender and one by one offer stories of his kindness and goodness to them. When all have spoken, the circle breaks and the offender goes free. This came to mind when Jesus says to the woman taken in adultery, "Neither do I condemn you" -- his attention and mercy having (we imagine) a life-changing effect.

He enunciates a core belief for me: "We want an extraordinary God and instead, we get a God who calls the ordinary to do extraordinary things."

January 2025 - Reflections by Jackie Fulop A Montessori elementary teacher, Jackie Fulop lives in Danville VA with her husband, priest-in-charge at Christ Church. And she's a self-confessed "word nerd" who delights me with her discovery that "trust" and "tree" share the same root. "I become like a tree -- supported, sustained, and standing firm -- grounded by my faith in God, despite any turmoil that threatens to uproot me."

She opens up the "gate" image, too. I think of it as an entrance where one may be barred; she looks at "gates" as "places of transition," as when Jacob saw the gates of heaven open. Jesus says, "I am the gate," and he's there "between what my life was and what I hope it will be."

"The pilgrim's way" in Psalm 84 calls to her mind a cross-country drive she made without a plan, veering off-course for beautiful sights and some desolate places, always confident in the eventual arrival. Wherever our path wanders, we will arrive at God, says the psalm.

Psalm 118 is one of those psalms of revenge on your enemies, off-putting for the author, until she thinks that your worst enemies may be internal ones. She observes that the psalm is bookended by gratitude, an effective defense against anxiety.

She always reads blame into the question Jesus asks of the lame man who doesn't make his way to the healing fountain: "Do you WANT to be made well?" But suppose it's "Do YOU want to be made well?" Then it's Jesus scanning the crowd to find one who can't push his way there. Jesus takes the healing to him. I like that - and it's something I can emulate. (As a teacher, I certainly tried to notice the ones who were afraid to ask for what they wanted.)

Another hard-nosed and domineering Biblical expression about putting all things under Christ's feet is softened by the translator Eugene Paterson, who reads this as, "Christ is not peripheral in the world, but central." Really? Fulop asks, when the church faces "diminishing membership, loss of influence," and highly negative perceptions among 90% of adults under 60. We don't have to dominate, but we should be working with God to put Christ in the center.

"But who do YOU say I am?" Jesus asks Peter. Good question for each of us, today.

Fulop was always bothered by the passage about the unforgivable "blasphemy against the Holy Spirit" in Mark 3.29 until she paired it with Isaiah 44, about those woodworkers who bow down to idols they've carved, then cook dinner on the ashes of the wood leftover. They call the good evil and the evil, good. Fulop says that the unforgivable sin is "moral obtuseness."

Paul's conversion brings to her mind something by Paula D'Arcy: "God comes to you disguised as your life."

Fulop reminds us that the Hebrew word chesed is different from the words we use to translate it (mercy, compassion, goodness, steadfast love) because all of those are emotions, or emotion-adjacent. But chesed is an inherent quality of God, something she affirms with her favorite punctuation --!