I love reading Psalm 88 on Holy Saturday, when the answer can barely be contained behind the lines:

Do you work wonders for the dead?
will those who have died stand up and give you thanks?
Will your loving-kindness be declared in the grave?
your faithfulness in the land of destruction?

Was it necessary? We do not have Pharaoh’s excuse, whose heart by God was hardened, but from that evening in the garden we have pursued our own destruction. We cannot claim we didn’t know, with the fruit still sweet on our tongue. Was it necessary? Better ask the serpent, ask ourselves what it would have taken to remain unstained by the sap and its syrupy lies? 

A meditation for Good Friday

No longer Monday It’s not Monday any more, but the scent still lingers in the house when they awaken, and Lazarus is grateful for the distraction; he hardly knows himself these days, still amazed at the complicated gift of life. The echoes of yesterday’s prayers whisper through the statehouse rotunda. In the garden of Gethsemane, millennia of olive trees bend low to the ground, patiently awaiting the promise of peace.

No longer Monday

It’s not Monday any more, but the scent still lingers in the house when they awaken, and Lazarus is grateful for the distraction; he hardly knows himself these days, still amazed at the complicated gift of life. The echoes of yesterday’s prayers whisper through the statehouse…

If these were quiet … Think of the palms, crushed and bruised by the colt and the crowds, and of the ones who came back, the poor, the quiet, who came back to collect their broken stems and bleeding leaves, and wove them into something new, something to sell back to the capricious crowd on another day, so that nothing may be wasted, so that their hosannas may not waste or be swept away. ___________

If these were quiet …

Think of the palms, crushed and bruised by the colt and the crowds, and of the ones who came back, the poor, the quiet, who came back to collect their broken stems and bleeding leaves, and wove them into something new, something to sell back to the capricious crowd on another…

God’s time His last breath took him by surprise. Until its vapour dissipated in the ragged inhalations of his sisters, beginnings to convert his death into ululation; until then, he had thought that he would come. Hard to say what happened next: his astonished body wrapped and sealed, cooling and settling in the garden tomb, until he wondered how, in death, he could still hear…

God’s time

War
is hell.
So why
would anyone
decide upon acts
of war
“just for fun”?

A world of miracles Do you also want to be his disciples? asked the man. Then try this: Listen. Listen to the stories of the one you have walked by a thousand times in as many days dripping with pity without breaking your stride. Open your eyes to the mundane miracle: Mud, water word; ingredients that made a world and some body to see it, and love it…

A world of miracles

Do you also want to be his disciples? asked the man. Then try this: Listen. Listen to the stories of the one you have walked by a thousand times in as many days dripping with pity without breaking your stride. Open your eyes to the mundane miracle: Mud, water word; ingredients…

Dramatic irony I find myself drawn to the contrast between reports this week that some military commanders are framing the war against Iran as an effort to bring about the end times, as though we may decide these things for God, in our wisdom; the contrast between that and Jesus’ words to the woman that the hour is already come, quietly, unnoticed over a cup of water, when reconciliation happens, and the truth of God’s love for the world, in all of its invented factions and fractions, has been revealed.

Dramatic irony

I find myself drawn to the contrast between reports this week that some military commanders are framing the war against Iran as an effort to bring about the end times, as though we may decide these things for God, in our wisdom; the contrast between that and Jesus’ words to the…

The well Fed by generations, torrents of history running wild within the earth, the holy ground shaped and watered by the tears of war and weddings, piety and pity. Still waters run deep within the earth, seep between the shoulders of the land, shrugging off the stories that we tell, shifting and settling, remembering when it was all, when all was shapeless 

Thinking about the well, the woman, the land, its Creator, the prince of peace.
#preparingforSundaywithpoetry

Amongst the Babel of war We too often misunderstand, I think, what it means to become like God. We build our towers, our satellites in the sky, posing as heavenly bodies, the better to crater and control the earth. We rain down judgement as though it were wise, and fragments of pity as though they were manna. We remember the Flood instead of the rainbow. …

Amongst the Babel of war

We too often misunderstand, I think, what it means to become like God. We build our towers, our satellites in the sky, posing as heavenly bodies, the better to crater and control the earth. We rain down judgement as though it were wise, and fragments of pity as though they…

Nicodemus has insomnia He couldn’t sleep for the moon light streaming through creation, for the sound of the wind sighing over a sea too deep for words, for the shiver when he heard him speak liberty as though it were at hand,the shock of justice overturned, the taste of mercy submerged in wine, dangerous world-defying love; that shiver shook him awake. He found him, he would remember later, swaddled by the fire, as though he had been waiting for him since the beginning of time.

Nicodemus has insomnia

He couldn’t sleep for the moon light streaming through creation, for the sound of the wind sighing over a sea too deep for words, for the shiver when he heard him speak liberty as though it were at hand,the shock of justice overturned, the taste of mercy submerged in…

The Fast Is it this, that I would choose, to undo the latches, throw open the doors, empty the warehouses, let in the light, let out the breath, let in the light, let out the breath of the people bated, bated too long, to fast from the bread of bitterness, scatter its crumbs to the crows and watch them rise, the people free 

The Fast

Is it this, that I would choose, to undo the latches, throw open the doors, empty the warehouses, let in the light, let out the breath, let in the light, let out the breath of the people bated, bated too long, to fast from the bread of bitterness, scatter its crumbs to the crows and watch…

Stay (Transfiguration) Less a trick of the Lightcondensing out of the cloud, each droplet its own world of shapes and shades, ghosts of the martyred, those sidekicks of salvation, dissipating with their breath than the Light of the world condensing creation, ancestors and angels,witnesses and wantons in one bright moment of hope, burnt into the retinas of their souls for all the valleys to come…

Stay (Transfiguration)

Less a trick of the Lightcondensing out of the cloud, each droplet its own world of shapes and shades, ghosts of the martyred, those sidekicks of salvation, dissipating with their breath than the Light of the world condensing creation, ancestors and angels,witnesses and…

Nor the moon By night, soothed by darkness those for whom visibility is treacherous stretch out their palms to God who clouds the stars. The waters of creation still bring life from beyond the hills, the hopeful distance Psalm 121

Nor the moon

New pastoral message from Presiding Bishop Sean Rowe of The Episcopal Church 🕯️

"In our time, the deadly power of those divisions is on display on the streets of Minneapolis, in other places across the United States, and in other countries around the world.

Prayers have been shattered into pieces Grant that we, putting away all earthly anxieties, may be duly prepared for the service of thy sanctuary;  we, reaching forth our hands in love.

Prayers have been shattered into pieces

Grant that we, putting away all earthly anxieties, may be duly prepared for the service of thy sanctuary;  we, reaching forth our hands in love.

Resilience in winter The trees are running on empty,defenseless, exposed to the faceless elements, burned by the cold and starved by the desiccated air, yet they stand and sway as though they listenedto the songs of the land humming through their roots, branches snapping to the beat. Above the frozen river, robins filled their branches, mud-red feathers harbouring heat, gripping the tree limbs as though they would lift them up, piercing the soft bark with hope.

Resilience in winter

The trees are running on empty,defenseless, exposed to the faceless elements, burned by the cold and starved by the desiccated air, yet they stand and sway as though they listenedto the songs of the land humming through their roots, branches snapping to the beat. Above the…

The baptism of Jesus Isaiah 42:1-9, Matthew 3:13-17 Jesus’ ministry is bookmarked by humility. From his humble birth and early childhood as a child of refugees, seeking asylum in a foreign land. And here, coming to John for baptism, the Lord of all has no need to lord it over anyone. There is no pomp, pride, parading. The only display of power is that of the Holy Spirit, descending upon him like a dove, and the voice from heaven falling down like thunder: this is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.

The baptism of Jesus

Lenses

I was busy. It wasn’t until late in the day that I finally sat down to prepare a prayer for our meeting. I found one, a good one, except for one word that rang untrue. Do we need to be forgiven the blindness that keeps us from seeing? Or healed of it? Is blindness often chosen? I understood…

A prayer for the leaders

Intended That was the vision in which Joseph placed his faith and his family: that God is with us, God’s promises endure forever. It didn’t make life easier, by any means. God knows it didn’t remove the obstacles of grief and the graft and grimness of the world or the wilderness, its empires, its wars, its little kings. But what it did mean is that he, Joseph, spent the rest of his days in the close and intimate presence of the love of God among us, Jesus.

Intended

That was the vision in which Joseph placed his faith and his family: that God is with us, God’s promises endure forever. It didn’t make life easier, by any means. God knows it didn’t remove the obstacles of grief and the graft and grimness of the world or the wilderness, its empires, its…

I refer us to the seasonal hymn, “It came upon a midnight clear”, especially verse 3.
⚓️

Wise By the time you reached the star-struck place  you were ready to crawl in on bended knees  and babble your praises like a newborn;  for the foolishness of God's incarnation  was wiser than you or I ever could imagine.

Wise

By the time you reached the star-struck place  you were ready to crawl in on bended knees  and babble your praises like a newborn;  for the foolishness of God's incarnation  was wiser than you or I ever could imagine.

Christmas Eve 2025 This is the message of Christmas, isn’t it – not so much the drawing in and closing down, the drawing of the curtains against the dark and cold, as it is the opening up; the labour of effacing little by little the things that come between us and keep us from seeing the glory of God incarnate in our neighbours, from realizing the strength and endurance of God’s love, the capacity and tenacity of God’s mercy. When the very heavens are opened for angels to sing to shepherds on the earth, how can we be short of room for one another, friend and stranger, lover and lost, family and fallen alike?

Christmas Eve 2025

Solstice When the night is longest, stretching deep and dark beyond our sight, light a candle; see its flame flicker as the breath of God inhales our prayers, sighs out a shimmer of hope.

Solstice

WORD — Earth and Altar A flood of memories of the oblivion before the void contracted into creation, gravity from below and brooding holiness bearing down together until there was light; in the darkness of that night it...

In anticipation of the nativity and the new creation, a little poem shared by @earthandaltarmag.com : earthandaltarmag.com/posts/f8ov8i...

Advent I It is not as simple as the poet makes it sound to transform the form of metal, a sword into farm equipment. Just hit it with a hammer, the prophecy implies, and all will fall, seeds into their furrows and nations in obeisance to the Prince of Peace. Yet rumours of the spoils of war echo in the ears of rulers,

Advent I

Seven And then, imagine it from her point of view: seven lifetimes of love, regret, loss, laughter. Seven lifetimes of abuse - pray not. Seven lifetimes of blessing, despite the woes, hope despite it all. Seven lifetimes and here, in eternity, she was no one's to own: the richest woman with lifetimes to spare in a sky-blue heaven, the angels attendants, …

Seven

Woe to you who are self-satisfied Be the blessing that will bring us closer to the kingdom of God that Mary and Hannah sang of. Do the good in this moment, at this time and in this place, that will let others know the enduring love of God, who feeds us on bread and wine. Listen, heed the warnings that Jesus offers to those who think that they are untouched by the needs of others. Love God, love your neighbour, change their world, change our world.

Woe to you who are self-satisfied

All hallows It took so long to get the fire lit, even though the wind blew as though the Holy Spirit fanned the flames of Pentecost herself. The children in their costumes came and went without judgement, candy-sweet. When the tinder finally caught, I sought bric-à-brac of twigs from across the neighbour's yard to keep it fed. Consider, I thought, the fires of heaven, and us poor fuel, damp and easily consumed, yet within each the spark of holiness.

All hallows

It took so long to get the fire lit, even though the wind blew as though the Holy Spirit fanned the flames of Pentecost herself. The children in their costumes came and went without judgement, candy-sweet. When the tinder finally caught, I sought bric-à-brac of twigs from across the…