I have learned that it is important that I not only honor my mom on Mother’s Day but also honor my mother-in-law. Ruthie’s mom Darlene grew up in Weippe, Idaho, a small town where the Nez Perce Indians saved the starving Lewis and Clark expedition in 1805. Darlene is part Cherokee, proud of her Indian
Five centuries or so ago in Japan, a tea master named Yusai Hosokawa was preparing tea for a warlord when a servant dropped an invaluable vessel. The piece broke into five pieces and the warlord raised his hand to punish the servant, but Yusai intervened by singing an improvisation on an ancient romance
With our new assistant organist, Dr. Brian Campbell, and as a group fully vaccinated (more than two weeks past our final doses), the Calvary Choir is delighted to offer a live stream service of Choral Evensong at 5:00 p.m. on Sunday, May 2. In a bittersweet staff transition, our associate rector, Amber Carswell, will preside as officiant on her
For the past twenty-five summers, we have had the same landlord on the coast of Maine: Charles W. H. Dodge, a native son of Maine known to one and all as Charlie.
On Easter Day, for the first time in over a year, I had the privilege of presiding and preaching as a guest at The Church of the Nativity, a beautiful, historic church and vibrant parish in Greenwood MS. Everyone who knows anything about the Delta knows that the region is complicated in many ways. The
Near the end of a pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 2009, we all got up at 5 o’clock one morning to walk the stations of the cross along the Via Dolorosa. It is the old street in Jerusalem that is remembered as the path that Jesus took to his crucifixion. Via Dolorosa is Latin
As we begin to imagine a world of less physical separation, and the liturgies of Holy Week draw near (and, yes, since I haven’t been able to find the bandwidth this week…), I thought I’d post an article I wrote several years ago in the Christian Century. They titled it “Bodies at Worship.” I
*cusp: a dividing line between two very different things
One cold, bright-blue day in Colorado, I boarded a chairlift with my husband Frank. We strapped ourselves into seats that reminded me of the seats on Ferris wheels that my brother and I rode as children. But on this ‘ride’ there were long narrow skis attached to
In the past two weeks, I’ve been experiencing a strange sensation. Maybe you have, too. It feels like something long-forgotten, recently resurfacing—like an old song on the radio, one you hadn’t thought of in twenty years, but to whose every word you can sing along. My friends, to put it plainly, I am feeling hopeful.