Guest post by A.N. Muia The following post is adapted from a talk given at the 2014 Glen Workshop in Santa Fe, New Mexico. I came to the Glen Workshop while on sabbatical. For fourteen years, I’ve served as a minister to Mexican migrant workers, jail inmates, and addicts at the ministry of Tierra Nueva in Washington State. The sabbatical was my chance to finally focus on writing, a lifelong passion that had gone dormant during the busy years of... Read more
If you live long enough in a place, people will start to die there, but the phenomenon of time’s passage is often framed more romantically. Consider the lines of the classic Beatles song (emphasis mine): There are places I remember… Some have gone and some remain All these places have their moments with lovers and friends I still can recall Some are dead and some are living In my life, I’ve loved them all. I’m not immune to this tendency... Read more
Guest post by Linford Detweiler The following post is adapted from a talk given at the Glen Workshop in Santa Fe, New Mexico, August 7, 2014. Hello. I’m Linford Detweiler. I’m one half of the band Over the Rhine, and my wife and I are leading the songwriting workshop this week. I asked Greg when I saw first saw him here a few days ago—I was just thinking out loud—if there was any significance to the fact that both Over... Read more
What better time than Advent to ponder what poverty means? After all, Christ became poor for our sakes, emptying himself of his divinity as he emptied himself into our humanity. So what does poverty mean? Here are some dictionary definitions: Poverty (Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary): 1a: the state of one who lacks a usual or socially acceptable amount of money or material possessions; b: renunciation as a member of a religious order of the right as an individual to own... Read more
At some point or another, every Christmas celebrant in America has to draw lines in the sand over the following doctrinal issues: When is it acceptable to begin listening to Christmas music? What are your thoughts on front yard inflatables? Will you shop on Black Friday or boycott it and buy all the crap a couple weeks later? To what lengths will you go to ensure that your tenth grader still believes in Santa? What will be your game plan... Read more
Guest post by Linda Wendling I love St. Louis. I love Ferguson. My whole family grew up loving this burg. Two kids went to school there; my friends and I ate girly tea-party fare at The Thyme Table. And we all hit The Ferguson Bakery (famous for its chewy anise cookies). Ferguson and St. Louis proper are rich in historic homes, multicultural communities, and a long tradition of block parties (can you say “toasted ravioli?”). Two of my children still... Read more
On the back cover of Denis Johnson’s new novel The Laughing Monsters is a rather extraordinary quote by David Means. Means was reviewing Johnson’s short novel, Nobody Move, for the New York Times Sunday Book Review in 2009. The sentence from the quote that struck me in particular is that Johnson “routinely explores the nature of crime—all his novels have it in one form or another—in relation to the nature of grace (yes, grace) and the wider historical and cosmic... Read more
This is not an Advent post. There are enough of those out there. Writing of waiting, of expectation, of a light entering the darkness, of hope. I have heard them all before. I am done waiting. In class, we were talking about emotions. I teach English to refugees from East Africa. Per usual, they were quick to talk about what makes them feel joyous, but were silent when it came to the negative emotions. What makes you feel sad? I... Read more
In Bill Murray’s long movie career, I don’t think he’s ever played a flat out bad guy. Neither to my knowledge has he ever been a geek. He’s been crazy from time to time, and he’s been on the wrong side of the law, but without fail he’s supremely likeable. Most importantly, he’s never been uncool (I am on record as saying he’s the coolest man on earth). Fine directors have used him to great effect, Sophia Coppola, Lost in... Read more
Continued from yesterday. In the “burpees” the guys often showed me after they were home from prison—in their driveways and garages, always getting my heart thumping in my throat and a sweat in my shirt sooner than I expect—I recognized the Orthodox monks’ prostrations I’d learned in the monastery. The homies in their tight tank tops and huge jeans began upright, then hit fists to their abs, bent down to a full bow, touching knees, then the ground, dropping to... Read more
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