We were standing in front of an overflowing trash can in the neighborhood “fast-food chicken” franchise. It took me a moment to register my son asking me the question. I’d been daydreaming and lost in thought.
On Palm Sunday, during the reading of the passion gospel, my three and a half year old learned that Jesus died. On the one hand, I was swelling with parental pride for his calm attentiveness and understanding of the story. But on the other hand, I was worried about how this new information would begin processing in his young mind.
I am a priest. I am going through a divorce. Imagine my excitement level as I prepare to preach Sunday on Proper 22 in Year […]
Time for confession— I take far too much pride in my son. It is sinful. I am a realist and know the day will come […]
St. Barnabas, one of the earliest Apostles, is mostly a supporting actor in the story of the early church. In the drama of those first […]