Religion

Post about Religious topics. My spiritual journey is a subtopic of this.

Two Types of People

It is an old cliché, “There are two types of people…” Those who divide the world into two types of people, and those who don’t. I tend to think more in terms of continua and less in terms of binary oppositions. Nonetheless, it is a valuable rhetorical device.

One such example is the quote attributed to Helen Keller, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” It is tempting to head off on a direction about the life of fear that seems to grip so many in our nation today, and the life of adventure. I choose adventure.

This came to mind this morning as I was reading some of Scott Cairns’ “Short Trip to the Edge”. On page 178, (at least in my copy of the book), he says,

Sometimes I think there are two Orthodoxies (as, perhaps, there are two Christianities) – the mystical faith of those who glimpse how little we know (and are drawn and driven by love), and the cranky faith of those who appear to know everything already (and wish the rest of us would either agree with them or disappear).

This resonates with me on several levels. It seems that those of us drawn and driven by love and willing to admit not knowing everything are too few and far between in politics. Likewise, it feels like the discernment process, at least in my branch of the Jesus Movement, fails to embrace those of us drawn and driven by love who admit to not knowing everything.

It feels like allowing God to shape and change me doesn’t fit with institutions that want to do the shaping themselves, perhaps out of fear of confronting changes they need to look at.

Yet again, perhaps we are confronting a false dichotomy. It is not binary oppositions, it is a continua. Our journey is to recognize what we don’t know, where we aren’t as loving as we could or should be and asking God change us in these areas.

Open Ember Letter, Pentecost 2017: Keep the Sabbath Holy, Trust the Process, Trust the Camino, Rebuild My Church

Keep the Sabbath Holy, Trust the Process, Trust the Camino, Rebuild My Church

There is a practice in the Christian tradition of seekers writing quarterly letters to their superiors about what has gone on in their journeys over the past few months. Writing such Ember Letters seems like a valuable practice and I have adopted it for my own journey. However, the events of the past few months have left me uncertain about whom to address this letter, so this time, I am posting it as an open letter, online, to whomever is called to read it and walk alongside me during this part of my journey, whether it be as guide, superior, or fellow seeker.

During the past few months, the priest in my local parish accepted a calling at a parish far away. A bishop in my local diocese made it fairly clear that they did not see a space for me to live into what I believe God is calling me to, within the local diocese. SoI have been thinking much more about what it means to be a pilgrim, a peregrino.

I love my local parish and my local diocese. They feel like the starting point of my current Camino, but that perhaps it is time to move on, to approach them like a beloved albergues on the camino, perhaps as the St. Jean Pied De Port of my current camino; a starting point, not a destination.

For the time being, I continue to worship at my local parish. I continue to be involved with my local diocese, but the journey has begun in earnest. My local parish, my local diocese has become just one more albergue on my Camino.

There are various recommendations offered to seekers along the way, Keep the Sabbath Holy, Trust the Process, Trust the Camino, and Rebuild my church. Each is valuable, yet each has a danger of being taken too literally.

I have been seeking to Keep the Sabbath Holy. A Facebook friend of mine has recently been on a kick about the importance of celebrating the Sabbath on Saturday, and of specific things that need to be done. As I read this, I keep coming back to Jesus saying, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” I am seeking to live into enjoying the loving gift of the Sabbath. A chance to rest knowing that Love who made us, showed us some of that love by inviting us to rest in Love.

I am finding this helpful as I think about Trusting the Process. Many of my friends talk about this in terms of the process of the organized, established church for selecting and forming those that the church will allow to celebrate sacraments. Many of these same people talk about how deeply flawed that process is and of people that have been severely wounded by this process. I now count myself among those with such wounds, and I am struggling to find how to Trust the Process. It now seems like this wounding by the process is an important part of the Process that Love has for me. It is part of what is shaping the next stage of my Camino.

I have known, since the start of my current stage of my Camino, that there is no way that I could complete the Camino on my own. Love must prepare the way. Love must lead me. I had hoped that my local diocese might help me find my current path on my Camino, but now, as I tend the wounds from the process, words from The Cloud of Unknowing come to me, and it seems that I must put even my local diocese below the cloud of forgetting.

In many ways, the real starting point of this current phase of my Camino was the first Bi-Annual Poetry Conference at Yale Divinity School. I had a deep experience of Love speaking to me of how Love is calling me to show Love to those around me. It set me up for me the past two years of struggling with the process.

During this time, I have read and thought and lived more as a pilgrim, a peregrino. I have met fellow travelers along the way. Recently, there was the second Bi-Annual Poetry Conference. It was another wonderful experience, but one of the most important parts for me was not at the conference itself, but talking with a friend at the Divinity School who made a comment that perhaps is my most importance guidance for the next part of this stage.

She noted that part of how you know your calling is that it isn’t something that goes away when you are rejected. She said she did not believe I would be happy until I started divinity school and even though I may not yet know where my Camino is leading, I need to start divinity school as soon as possible, if only as an Ignatian discipline. It was one of those moments when I knew that I had heard some of the Truth that Love has for me.

So, I am embracing these words and have started looking at divinity schools. There are many complications in my Camino. I don’t have a lot of money to spend on it. I need to continue to support my family as I walk my Camino. I don’t even have my Bachelor’s degree. Love must prepare the way. Love must lead me.

Over the past few weeks, I have reached out to find a divinity school where I might study in the fall. One particular school seems especially promising, and I am in the process of putting together my application for their Fall Term. The deadline is July 1st. There are some courses there that I am really interested in, and God willing, I will start classes in the fall.

A local bishop suggested that I explore religious orders along the lines of contemporary Third Orders. They had suggested a Franciscan Order. I am quite draw to certain Franciscan practices. I am also quite draw to certain Benedictine practices and am exploring other ancient orthodox and catholic practices, perhaps from the Eastern Orthodox or from the Celtic Church. I am not yet sure where this will lead. It feels like something I need to keep exploring, but it is not yet time to pursue this, nor at all clear what aspects would make sense pursuing.

In all of this, I find an important possible future stage in my Camino. Joining with St. Francis to rebuild the church, not just San Damiano, or my current local parish or diocese. Perhaps there is something about helping rebuild the church, a post-establishment church. Yet I have much to do and learn before I can help much with that.

At the poetry conference, I picked up Short Trip to the Edge: A Pilgrimage to Prayer. I am reading about a Baptist poet’s trip to prayer and Eastern Orthodoxy. I am finding it very meaningful. Perhaps it provides the best post script to this letter.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

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What Do We Do While Waiting?

Below is the sermon I preached at Grace and St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Hamden, CT on May 28th, 2017, Seventh Sunday of Easter, Year A. The texts were Acts 1:6-14, Psalm 68:1-10, 33-36, 1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11, John 17:1-11

May the words of my lips and the meditations of our hearts be always acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer.

Today is a strange day in the church calendar. It is the Sunday after Ascension Day. It is the Sunday before Pentecost. It is the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend. It is the beginning of the Muslim holy month of Ramadan. It is a day to honor those who have fought and died for us; those who have fought and died for us in the fields of battle, and He who died for us on the Cross.

It seems there’s been a lot of dying in the news recently. The terrorists attack on concert-goers in Manchester, England, and on Christians in Minya, Egypt, and the stabbing deaths on a train in Portland, Oregon are reminders to us of the dangerous world we live in and the importance of those who have given their lives in wars around the world to protect our freedom and safety.

Ascension Day was Thursday, which we celebrate during our service today. We celebrate Jesus’ ascension as we hold onto the promise of Pentecost for next week, that God will send the Holy Spirit to us. Today marks the final week of the Easter Season together with the waiting for the season Pentecost. It is a time liturgy wonks argue about. Should the Pascal candle, celebrating Jesus presence here with us on earth after his resurrection be extinguished on Ascension day, or should it remain lit until Pentecost?

We are living through something similar here at Grace and St. Peters right now. We finished celebrating a beloved priest who has been with us for many years and has now left, and we are waiting for the arrival of our next priest. What should we be doing in this time of many unknowns?

It seems to capture a feeling many of us have right now; especially, those celebrating the birth of a new child, or the graduation of loved ones, the strange mixture of celebrating, mingled with the anticipation of what is to come next. We celebrate the birth of a child as we wait to see what she will grow up to be like. We celebrate graduations as we wait for the new graduates to head off to college or their first job. It raises the question, “What do we do while waiting?”

When I was in college, I was in the play “Waiting for Godot”, and part of the answer was, “we could do our exercises”. What are the exercises we should be doing right now, while we wait?

Today’s Gospel lesson gives us a hint: “Jesus looked up to heaven and said, “Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all people, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.”

Here we see the celebration of Jesus’ ascension, as well as hints about what is to come next, of Pentecost and eternal life. God is to be glorified, but in the midst of the pain and suffering around us like the attacks in Manchester England, in Minya, Egypt, and in Portland Oregon, as well as in our own turmoil and suffering, it can be hard to glorify God.

These are the exercises we need to be doing, becoming more grateful and thankful for what we have around us, in spite of current suffering. Glorifying God and showing appreciation to people around us in spite of current struggles.

I must confess, I’m not so great at giving God, or anyone, for that matter, the glory that is deserved. The liturgy, the prayer book, and related reminders help us a bit with giving God glory, but I really suck at expressing appreciation to those around me. There is so much suffering, complacency, and frankly, I’m just out of practice at giving God, and those around me, the thanks they are due.

The Epistle says, “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you are sharing Christ's sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed.”

The ordeals around us may not be particularly fiery; let us hope they aren’t. We all have ordeals in our lives which are very painful, but we’re not getting shot at for going to church or stabbed for protecting another person. We read the news and posts from friends online, and we hear so much more suffering. Personally, at times it feels really hard to rejoice, let alone rejoice in any sort of suffering and I certainly pray we don’t get to a place where we might be shot at for going to church.

A second thing that gets in the way of properly giving glory, showing gratefulness or thanksgiving, is our complacency, the tendency to take for granted all the wonderful things that are around us all the time. Every week day morning, I get up, eat my oatmeal, take a shower, and head off to work.

If you eat oatmeal pretty much every morning for breakfast, like I do, it is fairly easy to forget how wonderful it is to be able to have a nourishing breakfast every morning. It seems like just the same old oatmeal. But for too many people who are food insecure, a nice warm bowl of oatmeal each morning would be a great blessing.

Presiding Bishop Curry of the Episcopal Church, together with Presiding Bishop Eaton of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has called us to fast on the 21st day of each month through the end of next year “because that is the day when 90% of Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits run out for families”.

Bishop Curry says, “Perhaps we in the Episcopal Church, perhaps we in the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, perhaps we who are Christians and people of faith and goodwill have come to the kingdom for such a time as this, to help our country make sure that no child goes to bed hungry.” It is a way to advocate for children that go hungry in America. It is a way to remember to be grateful.

The same applies to the daily shower. 783 million people in the world do not have access to clean water. 2.5 billion don’t have access to adequate sanitation. A warm daily shower is an incredible blessing. We should be thankful for access to clean water and adequate sanitation. We should be advocating to improve access to clean water and sanitation.

Likewise, having a good job to go to, and the means to get there is another wonderful blessing that it is so easy to take for granted, especially when work is challenging or tedious.

Personally, I am also particularly blessed to have a wife who is a wonderful cook. When we manage to find time to sit down to dinner together, I can be pretty sure that it is going to be a great meal. When it is a great meal, which is pretty much always, well, that’s expected, and I too easily forget to tell Kim what a wonderful meal it was.

Yet there is another reason I really suck at giving praise, whether it be to God, or to those who do wonderful things around me. It just isn’t the way I was brought up. It isn’t something I’m well practiced at. When I was a child, my father was a perfectionist. It felt like nothing I could do was ever good enough. It felt like I never got sufficient acclaim for my successes, so I never learned to give acclaim to others.

I know this is something I need to get a lot better at. Many of you are much better at it that I am, but I suspect we all could get a lot better at showing gratitude and being thankful. We should all practice being more thankful, showing more gratitude, not only for ourselves, but for those who could learn from our example.

What might it be like, if we were all more grateful, more thankful? The Epistle says a little bit about this, “the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish you”. The Gospel adds to it with this: Jesus, speaking about the disciples who would see the Ascension, and, indeed about all of us, says, “And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.”

You know, when I hear people talking about “knowing God and Jesus Christ” it raises all kinds of concerns for me. It does seem like we all “know God” on some certain level. I know who the President of the United States is. He’s not a personal friend of mine, and there are plenty of things it seems we disagree on, but I know who he is. I suspect many people have similar relationships with God. Sure, they know of God as Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. They might even make it to church regularly, but God might still feel like a bit of an abstract concept or a distant being, not a personal friend, but someone they disagree with.

At the other end of the spectrum, too often, I’ve heard people ask “Do you know Jesus Christ as your personal savior?” I have a lot of issues with this, too. It makes Jesus Christ sound like some sort of buddy, or BFF – best friend forever - which I don’t really have a big problem with in and of itself, but it often feels like it is used to separate the “cool kids who are Christian” from all of the other people who might not really be cool or Christian.

It also too often feels like takes away a little bit from the aspect of God as majestic, mysterious, transcendent; of God, the unknowable, surpassing human understanding; of Jesus Christ who died, rose again, and ascended in heaven.

So, what does it mean to know God, today, this Memorial Day Weekend, 2017, the beginning of Ramadan, the Sunday after the Ascension and before Pentecost?

There is an old saying that a good sermon should comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. Perhaps is a good way to look at the challenge of today’s lessons. Are you grieving? Know that God loves you, that amidst our pain and suffering God does in fact, bring hope and healing.

Do you have problems being grateful or thankful? A lot of us do. Let’s work on it together. Let’s do our exercises together. Let’s practice being aware of the simple blessings, even as simple as a nice bowl of oatmeal, or a warm shower. Let’s make an effort to show our thankfulness, not only to God, but also to those around us.

Is God a nice idea to you, but not someone you know, that you spend time with? Spend time in prayer, perhaps just quietly listening, waiting for God. Does your sense of God lack mystery and majesty? Spend time thinking about the Ascension.

Think about the end of today’s Psalm:

Ascribe power to God; his majesty is over Israel; his strength is in the skies. How wonderful is God in his holy places!

Today’s Gospel is part of a larger context. It is the longest prayer of Jesus in the Gospels; The “High Priestly Prayer”, part of the Farewell Discourse. The prayer ends with Jesus praying, “that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.”

Jesus is praying for our oneness with one another and with God, a oneness that is both personal and profound, a oneness that helps us get past our pain, suffering, fear, complacency, or even lack of practice of showing love to God and one another. Let us pray this ourselves.

Ascribe power to God; his majesty is over Israel; his strength is in the skies. How wonderful is God in his holy places! the God of Israel giving strength and power to his people! Blessed be God!

Amen.

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Sermon for Chapel on the Green, Mother’s Day, the Fifth Sunday of Easter, 2017

Below is the prepared text for a sermon I preached at Chapel on the Green in New Haven, CT on May 14th, 2017, Mother's Day, Fifth Sunday of Easter Year A. The texts were Acts 7:55-60,Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16, 1 Peter 2:2-10, John 14:1-14

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be always acceptable in your sight, or Lord, my strength and my redeemer.

Happy Mother’s Day. I was undecided about whether to talk about Mother’s day today. It is a hard day for many of us. My mother died in a car accident during Hurricane Sandy four and a half years ago. Friends of mine have struggled to become mothers or have lost their children. Mother’s day is hard for many of us. Yet the ideal of motherhood, of unconditional love, is something we hear about in the lessons today.

In today’s Gospel lesson, we here the phrase, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places”. It’s a lovely thought, but what does this say to us, here, today? Usually, when people talk about this, they are talking about some future time, a time when Jesus returns. Jesus goes on to say, “I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.” Yeah, it’s a lovely thought, but for some of us, hearing that “things will be better sometime in the future” can feel pretty empty.

“In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places”. What does this really have to say to us, here, today? What does this say to those of us who have been dwelling on a friend’s couch, a park bench, or under a bridge? What does it say to those of us who are living with turmoil and strife?

Perhaps we can get some ideas about this by thinking about what Jesus says a little later on: “so that where I am, there you may be also.” How much of the time do we really feel that we are where Jesus is? What does that feel like anyway? Later on, Jesus says, “I am in the Father and the Father is in me”. Do we feel this sort of closeness with God?

Again, when we are living with turmoil and strife, God often doesn’t feel that close. When we are distracted by all that is going on around us. God doesn’t often feel that close.

“In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places”. Even when God doesn’t feel that close, the invitation remains. We are invited to dwell with God. We are invited to let our minds dwell on God’s loving kindness towards us.

The Psalm is a good example of how we can accept this invitation. “In you, O Lord, have I taken refuge”. A refuge is a special type of dwelling. It is a place of safety, of shelter from danger. We all face dangers daily. Beside physical dangers, we face the danger of being distracted by all that is around us. We face the danger of forgetting that what really makes us safe is God. We face the danger of forgetting what it is like to dwell in God.

So, what is it like to dwell in God? This isn’t something we tend to think or talk about much these days. Perhaps some of it is when we look to people who seem to dwell in God, they seem somehow different from the rest of us.

Look at St. Stephen, the first Christian Martyr. His love for God appears unconditional. Even as Stephen gets killed he prays, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them”. Really? I don’t want to be a martyr. I have a hard enough time asking the God forgive someone who has simply been unkind to me. St. Stephen seems to do more than I could ever dream of. Yet in old Christian texts, you find people talking about how they want to become martyrs for Christ, to win the martyr’s crown of gold.

So, what is it like to dwell in God? God just doesn’t seem to be a big part of many people’s lives these days. It’s sad really, because dwelling with God can be wonderful. Feeling God’s peace, love, and joy can be wonderful.

Recently, I heard a great poem by Raymond Carver:

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

Dwelling in God is to feel oneself beloved. It is feeling too few of us feel very often. It is a feeling all of us long for. So let me pause for a moment for each of you to hear this. Listen closely. You are beloved. You are special. God created you to do something very special. You are beloved. You are special. God created you to do something very special.

What are we created to do? Mother Theresa says, “We have been created in order to love and to be loved.”

This ability to love those around us, even when they might seem unlovable is something truly amazing. It is how we dwell in God. In the Gospel lesson, Jesus tells us, “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these”

Greater works than the works of Jesus? That seems really hard to imagine, but it is part of the promise Jesus makes to us. The works Jesus did were based on him showing God’s love to us. He showed that love to us in healing those around him. He showed that love to us by feeding those around him. He showed that love to us by accepting those around him.

But that area around him was limited. He was just one person, after all. He didn’t have the modern means of travel or communications that we have. We are called to do the works he did around us, to feed, to heal, to love. And part of what can make our works greater is our ability to do these works, not only in Israel, but here in New Haven, here in Connecticut, across the country and around the globe.

True, we may not love as perfectly as Jesus loved us. We may not ever heal a leper or raise a person from the dead, but the vastness of this ability to love is truly amazing if we allow ourselves to love, and if we allow ourselves to be loved.

And this presents another challenge, not only must we choose to love, we must choose to let others love us. The song Desperado comes to mind.

Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, open the gate
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you (let somebody love you)
You better let somebody love you before it's too late

Can we let those around us love us, in spite of our own brokenness? In spite of having been told, too often, that we are not good enough? Can we let Jesus love us, in spite of our own brokenness? In spite of knowing all the things we’ve done wrong in the past?
“You better let somebody love you.”

Perhaps this helps better understand the verse we started with. “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places”. We can enter the dwelling place of the heart of Jesus. We can let Jesus love us and we need to respond with love. We can let God change our hearts to also be dwelling places of love. We can hold those around us in our hearts and allow those around us to hold us in their hearts. We can let somebody love us.

Because God does love us. There are people around us that love us. And even though it might not always feel that way, we can know, that along with Raymond Carver, we are beloved on the earth.

God loves you. It isn’t just a nice phrase to say to try and cheer someone up. It is a way of life we are all called to. God loves you. I love you. Now go forth and love one another, even as God has loved us. Amen.

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Camino du Jour

It is the first Saturday of Easter, and I am approaching….

The problem is, I’m not sure what I’m approaching nor what I am leaving. Unlike walking the Camino de Santiago, even with its different paths, unless you get completely lost, you still know what you are approaching, what you are leaving behind, and what the final goal is. The same applies even to walking a labyrinth. Yet often, in the journeys of our lives, we don’t know that. We wander, perhaps coming back to a place we’ve been to in the past and approaching it newly.

For the past few years, I’ve been interested in the idea of the rhizome from Deleuze and Guattari; the idea that learning and understanding is not a simple straight path with single entry point and a single exit point that can all be fit nicely into clear hierarchy.

Where does our journey to God lead, if the pot cannot understand the mind of the potter? Are we journeying with the mystics to some sort of unitive experience with the divine? Is that experience kataphatic? Apophatic? Affective? Speculative? Are we journeying to some sort of active response to God, doing all things for the love of God? Out of fear of God’s wrath? In some sort of effort to obtain salvation through works? Through fear and trembling?

Who are the pilgrims that walk alongside us during parts of our journey? What role does the established institutional church play? The structures and hierarchies of the church?

I’ve been watching various videos of people on the Camino de Santiago. For each peregrine, even though there is a common path and destination, the journeys are very different. Perhaps someday I will walk the Camino. Until then, I am trying to make the steps of my daily life steps of a pilgrim.

How do we make each step part of our journey to God? How aware are we of where we are going and what is around us? Yesterday, I walked down to the river near where I work at lunch time. There was a light rain. Our journeys, in our daily life and on the Camino aren’t always nice sunny days. Along the way I notice the periwinkle in bloom, the shell of a robin’s egg, an old Christmas tree, brown but still fragrant, and the comb of an old hornets’ nest brought down by winter storms.

Thursday, I went to noonday prayer at a local church. We talked about the reading for Wednesday, which was the story about meeting the risen Lord on the road to Emmaus. We are used to going straight from the grief of Good Friday to the joy of resurrection on Sunday. Yet for the disciples, that isn’t the way it was. The disciples walking to Emmaus were still in their grief, compounded by confusion after they had heard stories about the resurrection. When they met Jesus on the road, they did not recognize him. Does that sound odd to you? You’ve spent three years following this person who you think might be the Messiah, but then when you see him, you don’t recognize him. I wonder how often we don’t recognize Christ around us. For those of us that love the Eucharist, the idea of Christ being known to us in the breaking of the bread strongly resonates. Yet tomorrow, we think about doubting Thomas. Christ was made known to Thomas by his wounds. Christ showed his vulnerability. How willing are we to show our vulnerability?

I also wonder if some of what was going on with Thomas was a feeling of being left out. How would you feel or react if you close friends were all talking about something amazing they saw that you didn’t see? Would you say that you don’t really believe it was all that amazing, only to change your tune when that amazing experience came to you?

Tomorrow, I expect to go to church as a pilgrim. I’m not sure which church or denomination it will be. Will I go to the church I’ve been going to for the past several years, or is it time to move on? Will I go to the denomination I’ve been going to for the past forty years, or is it time to move on? Should I go to a church named after Thomas on the day we read his story? Should I go to a church named after Joseph of Arimathea as I look back at the empty tomb? Perhaps I should go to Congregational church, reconnecting to my childhood, to a Russian Orthodox church, connecting to my wife’s ancestry, to a Coptic Orthodox church in solidarity with Egyptian martyrs.

It is the first Saturday of Easter, and I am approaching….

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