Have you ever had a cancer scare? Or any sort of brush with death? Are you, perhaps even now, facing a sentence of only so many more months or weeks left to live on this bright earth?
Once upon a time I had a tattoo. I got it in 1977, long before tattoos were chic.
In November of 2016 Bob Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.
If only there were someone to arbitrate between us,
to lay his hand upon us both,
someone to remove God’s rod from me,
so that his terror would frighten me no more. (Job 9:33-4)
(A meditation by Barbara Cawthorne Crafton)
We didn’t even know what moderation was. What it felt like. We didn’t just work: we inhaled our jobs, sucked them in, became them. Stayed late, brought work home—it was never enough, though, no matter how much time we put in.
Zion’s stones are dear to Your servants; her very dust moves them to pity. –Ps 102:14
Every year about a thousand letters arrive at the Jerusalem Post Office addressed simply to “God.” The whole world knows where He lives.
You also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house. –1 Peter 2:4
This photograph shows the small group of friends with whom I toured Israel in October 2012.
He took the cup, gave thanks, and offered it to them. –Mk 14:23
The term Holy Grail refers to the cup used by Jesus to institute the eucharist at the Last Supper. If you’re like me, any claim that this cup might still exist produces skepticism. Isn’t this just a knights-of-the-round-table legend?
During November 2002, over 100,000 visitors to the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto lined up for hours to view an old bone box.