Third Sunday in Advent: A Sestina
These candlelit evenings, ancient hope glimmers like a gift,
gleams for a moment, then falters, slips to nothing
in the circling of the
These candlelit evenings, ancient hope glimmers like a gift,
gleams for a moment, then falters, slips to nothing
in the circling of the
I propose that Advent is the time when we are allowed—even encouraged—to be honest about our disappointment, our sadness, our cynicism.
Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. —
Bare pots of dirt: that’s my preferred symbol this Advent. Bare trees, dead leaves, winter stillness. It occurred to me the other day, stopping and
Come and more than hover, come and root
in rock-hard hearts, ignite us, hurricane us, earthquake our ache,
for we are empty caves,
Come, Savior.
Come amid the salt-crusted cars lined up at the light,
amid the clamor and bustle of commerce,
the grocery store cash
It must begin with Zechariah’s silence. Nothing against poor old Zechariah. Who can blame him for asking a decent question? The text tells us that
If you really want to make an impression in the neighborhood, put some sizzle in your stable scene with these inflatable Reformers: Luther, Calvin, Zwingli,
People organize their life stories around significant football games. They make holy pilgrimages. They engage in ritual grilling and boozing and cheering. They seek the