“For this, I was born,” Jesus tells us. For this? Today’s Gospel rocks us with its injustice, its inhumanity, its great wrong. For what is the crucifixion, if not the highest wrong? A friend, with a belly full of bread, betraying his leader–and that leader, knowing it, stepping forward to receive that betrayal (turn the other cheek?? demands my 12-year-old every time we discuss middle school behavior. Why should I let him hit me again??… Continue reading

(Postcards from Cyrene) The Lord came into your history, into the dust of your human being, barefoot and bearing his own cross–all the makings, all the markings of a world-eaten love. The Lord came into the darkest corners of your heart, dragging his own cross, beleaguered, hounded; all his life followed, sought, solicited, but not consumed. Cloying multitudes, oceans of want, worlds of need: here the Lord walks, all his life an object–an object of… Continue reading

  Your thirst was a boundless place And I gave you manna. I sent you food which fed without your knowing (“What is it?” They said to one another.) Into your midst Into your dust I sent you food — A feast incarnate.   But your need deafened the song of those hills; You did not follow Though I led. Your hearts were left in Eqypt Enslaved, still building Bricks without straw… I took you… Continue reading

December 2018 For me, Advent is one big paradox. For many (especially the children I live with), Advent “preparation” means accumulation—more shopping, more outings, more calories, more excitement and seasonal stimulation. And the culture woos us with extravagance—even bigger savings, giving your home that extra sparkle, a nice fat Christmas tree groaning with tinsel and gifts, all the while telling us—go figure—to simplify our lives. In the Christian community, of course, we shun such over-commercialization… Continue reading

December 2018 The Christmas Train. I’ve used the expression for years to describe the onslaught of holiday activity—the decorating, shopping, teacher gifts, holiday concerts, and church activities bearing down on the season like an 80-ton locomotive. You’re either on it or you’re not. The best place to be is, of course, in front of it so as not to get mowed down. Somedays I move so quickly I forget my teeth. When they are not… Continue reading

Weekend in New England. It’s become a bit of a tradition, that actually started with my father. He was diagnosed after Labor Day one fall, after a long summer–and spring—of tests and doctors and waiting on results. I don’t recall whether we saw him that summer or not, or if it went by as they do, one long kid-activity poolside summertime blur, but I remember that phone call. It came on the first day of… Continue reading

Monday, August 6:  Mont St Michel The halfway point in our 10-day trip is also the highlight of our entire journey: Mont St. Michel. By now, we are three somewhat unique travelers: the French romantic, the returning pilgrim, the photographer—and this island arrests us, invites and delights us in very different ways. After this day, our trip becomes a journey. It was a hard-won destination, back in the planning stages, as the site is four… Continue reading

There is only one hill in Paris, and you can see it from the roof of the Arc de Triomphe, which is the one place Sophie told me she wanted to visit. I had pointed out the smaller arc, at the entrance to the Louvre, on our death-ride to the tourist office on Wednesday (was that really only three days ago—feels like a lifetime!!) but I think she knows she’s been fooled. So on Saturday,… Continue reading

3 August 2018 On Friday, we visit the Palace of Versailles. So does half of France. It is the third most visited monument in the country, after the Eiffel Tower and Mt. St. Michel. The crowds outside on the cobblestone courtyard are so huge they seem as though they have been airbrushed in, or assembled for a filming or re-enactment so we can visualize just how immense–and populated—this 17th century estate really was. Really, people?… Continue reading

I wasn’t kidding about the jack hammers. 8 a.m. sharp. The windows are wide open, the day glares in, and I bolt out of the little bed instantly awake—and, for some reason, laughing. The day is ridiculously loud. I am relieved that the girls are sharing a room toward the back of the house, although we all agreed to start the day early. So, early it is. Early it will be. Today…..PARIS! Irene took us… Continue reading