My Days of Awe, 5776

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAImpatience. Anger. Wastefulness. Restlessness. Desire. Haughtiness. Greed. Judgement. Pride.


I’ve been paying attention, especially the last few days. Now it’s getting serious. It’s the morning of the eve of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.


Yesterday, just after I walked into the house after ten-and-a-half hours at the university, before I dropped my heavy book bag on the floor, I spotted a bowl of chips and an open container of my favorite salsa. But before I was able to crack the first of forty chips in my mouth, my wife said, it arrived crushed.

She was on hold, forty-five minutes waiting for a customer service rep. The post office. How to file a claim. A box of wedding gifts. [Read more...]

The Holy Wafer on the Floor

Eucharist001cropSometimes I take the Host in the mouth, other times I take it in the hand. Mostly I take it in the mouth. That’s because of the strangeness of it, the good strangeness. I don’t generally let other people feed me, let alone grown men. Let alone priests.

So, this meal is not like other meals. It is a meal that challenges my desire to have control of what goes into me and how. In this meal, I like to feel I’ve surrendered something, that I’ve become vulnerable standing there at the foot of the altar with my mouth open, giving someone else the power to do what they will.

The other day, the younger priest at my church misfired in his attempt to give me communion. He’s not like the older priest, who sticks the wafer right in there, saliva be damned, germs be damned, all of it be damned.

The younger priest, who is a good man all told, worries about viruses and colds and the transmission of disease. And his hand wavers. He doesn’t want to get too close, the younger priest. Because of that, and surely without ever intending any harm, he has become a Host-chucker. [Read more...]

Canticle of Creation

By Brian Volck

This post was made possible through the support of a grant from The BioLogos Foundation’s Evolution and Christian Faith program. The opinions expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of BioLogos.

powell_ast_2000142_lrgThough I’ve heard it said otherwise, the Great Wall of China is not the only evidence of human artifice visible to inhabitants of the International Space Station. Among the more prominent is Lake Powell, the now drought-shrunken reservoir behind the Glen Canyon Dam on the Colorado River. The dam—an impressive feat of engineering—required a tradeoff: electricity to chill and illuminate buildings in Phoenix and Las Vegas in exchange for flooding a beautiful landscape upstream and disturbing the ecosystem of the Grand Canyon downstream.

Parts of some national borders are visible from space, where one country—typically the poorer—has denuded its forests or otherwise severely degraded its land. The most obvious evidence of human activity, however, shines from earth’s nighttime hemisphere, where blobs of light radiate from cities like metastases from a tumor. [Read more...]

Let Me Die Like This

redWhen I die, Lord, let me go in a plane crash, spiraling down, earthward, earthward, apportioned enough time to pray but not nearly enough to forget what we’re all prone to forget: that the end comes, it rushes up to greet us, every one in flight.

What I’d pray in my downfall is: forgive, sweet Christ, forgive, and this: let me see. Let me see myself in your mirror so I may know, before the end, if I am known.

They say it’s easier to conjure faith in desperation, but I suspect the opposite is true, that all we hold in our trembling hands, when the earth charges up to embrace us for the last time, is what’s really there, what we really believe, what we really love, be it God or ourselves or our children or our comforts, or likely some combination of these, with salvation turning perhaps not on a choice so much as on the algorithm, on our hammered-out parameters of love. [Read more...]

Becoming Food

By Elizabeth Duffy

13430047155_25a7d296d1_zAt five a.m. this morning, my husband woke me while taking money from my wallet to buy donuts for himself and our fourth child who was to accompany him to the lumberyard. He was buying wood to build a picnic table and a couple of porch swings.

My husband shouldn’t be driving a car. He shouldn’t be making things with wood yet. He had shoulder surgery several weeks ago, and at this point, his arm should be immobilized ninety percent of the time. He’s on short-term disability, home from work for an entire month, and he’s bored silly, so immobilization couldn’t last. It barely lasted a week.

Now he’s making furniture and renovating the storm windows. If he gets on a ladder, I’ll scream. And that should stop him. I think it really will.

It’s been interesting having him home all day. For the first week I gave him sponge baths, made him eggs, brought him entertainments, and took leisurely walks with him in the park. It was heaven. I thought I might amputate his legs, and keep him here with me all the time as my special patient. How delightful it was to serve, to experience his gratitude and dependency. [Read more...]