“… this holy tide of Christmas/ is filled with heav’nly grace.
O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy,/ O tidings of comfort and joy.”
I’m writing this after the last meals have been served and the tables cleared from our Emmanuel Meal on Monday afternoon. Our doors were open
It’s been at least twenty-five years since I walked onto a job site one day in a pair of shorts and a Walters & Marietta Construction t-shirt, my work uniform for that time of year and phase of my life. We were building a house and had hired Dan Orcutt to install the cellulose
Advent is the time of year I run headlong into two of my most onerous traits, procrastination and perfectionism. “Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?” coupled with, “It has to be better!” is a treacherous mental combination, never more so than in December.
In some ways, it is a mystery that I am so drawn to Advent, given who I am and how I do life. Although I often pretend to be a patient man, in my heart I know better. I do not like waiting. I don’t suppose anyone particularly does. But some seem to be better
While living in New Haven, Connecticut, we made plans to go with Lucille Clancy, a parishioner at our church, to the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade in New York City. We were so excited about this and Lucille was looking forward to going back to the site of her fondest Thanksgiving memories.
Since I arrived at Calvary about four weeks ago, I’ve been greeted with warmth and kindness. I’ve reacquainted myself with a westbound commute and started to learn some new names. I have climbed into the pulpit two Sundays and looked out over the altar two Sundays as well. It feels so
Peter Gomes, the late great preacher and minister of Harvard’s Memorial Chapel, (and also, I might add, a brilliant, witty preacher at Calvary’s Lenten Preaching Series in the 1990s), had a unique perspective on Thanksgiving.
He lived in Plymouth, Massachusetts, where the first immigrants, later called Pilgrims, landed in 1620, and where the first Thanksgiving meal
As I write this note to you on All Saints’ Day, I am keenly aware of two things that, though they have nothing to do with saints, major or minor, have invaded my consciousness this afternoon. One is the amount of leftover Halloween candy, which presents the question of how much of my life I
“God did not become a movement, a concept, an ideal, or even a committee, but a man of flesh and bone with a parentage, friends, a language, a country, a home. He inhabited not just a time but places, streets, rooms, countrysides, and by his presence in the flesh he changed them all.”
– Aidan
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: . . . a time to seek, and a time to lose: a time to keep, and a time to throw away.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1, 6)
As we enter this season in which we reflect upon stewardship, it is a good time to