by Mary | Feb 18, 2016 | family, Give Us This Day
My brief reflection from Give Us This Day earlier this week:
Whenever we take our children to Manhattan, we are confronted by the reality of “these least brothers” Jesus talks about in today’s Gospel. On subways and street corners they hold out battered cups in battered hands. Our kids look to us to gauge whether we should be doing something, and if not, why not? We tell them we can’t give to every street person. And even as we explain, we fight our own guilt over ignoring those with the least who live among those with the most.
by Mary | Apr 13, 2015 | Uncategorized
I know things have been relatively quiet here for the past week or so. That’s because I’m renegotiating my work/life schedule these days, and it’s taking some adjustment. Last week I started working half-time as the digital/social media consultant and coordinator for the Diocese of Albany. Hence the i.d. tag you see here. I am loving my new work so far, even as I continue to do all of my other freelance work. I really should be writing a spiritual reflection right now, so I’ll keep this brief. (more…)
by Mary | Apr 1, 2015 | Lent
My reflection from Give Us This Day today:
I’ve always had a tiny bit of a soft spot for Judas Iscariot. I know. It sounds crazy at best, traitorous at worst, but it’s true. When I hear today’s Gospel and fast-forward in my mind to what I know is coming, I ache a little for what I have to assume was terribly misguided good intention on Judas’s part. (more…)
by Mary | Aug 1, 2014 | spirituality
Okay, I’ll admit that when I first saw this clip, I was drawn in by the Hafiz poem, one of my favorites. Because when I grow up, I want to be the sage who has to duck her head when the moon is low. But then I kept watching, and I have to tell you that this video is so good from top to bottom it gives me goosebumps.
“I feel so badly for those people who would come to this party that is Christianity and refuse to dance with grace,” says Glennon Doyle Melton, author of Carry On Warrior (a great book, by the way).
Five minutes is all it takes. Watch it, and then decide to dance. (And you can read the full Hafiz poem under the YouTube link below.)