Luke 11

The dams on the Klamath River are coming down. Their removal reflects a very different theology than their construction.

How could Jesus assume that all those who heard him preach would never treat their children in such a way?

Most days I hover somewhere between Adam’s “I was afraid” and John of Patmos’s “Come, Lord Jesus.”

What if, when praying for our daily bread, we had real food in mind?

Prayer is ministry, and ministry is prayer.

What is the point of prayer? The question is writ large in the texts from both the Hebrew scripture and the Gospel for this Sunday. The terrain is fraught with places to trip and fall.

Ellen Davis is full of surprises. Some are delightful, others raise questions for further study, and still others throw up stumbling blocks.

In the Bible, forgiveness involves repayment of what is owed. One way to pay down the debt is through charity to the poor.

Deo gratias. That’s what the sign in my office says. It’s not fancy, just two words laser-printed on office paper and tacked up over the computer monitor so I can read it dozens of times a day. 

The phrase—which means “Thanks be to God”—is the traditional Benedictine greeting that monks offer visitors.

We're all perpetually longing for love. Fortunate are those who realize early that another human being can't meet this unrequitable need. Even more fortunate are men and women of prayer who realize that peace comes by embracing the longing itself.

While making nursing home and hospital calls one day, I visited several people who were on oxygen. A slim green hose ran from a machine to each person’s nostrils, piping in pure air to make his or her breathing easier. In each instance we prayed the Lord’s Prayer together in preparation for Holy Communion, our hands joined and our voices speaking together. I was struck by the strength with which each of these people prayed. Their bodies were weakened in many ways, yet the prayer flowed vigorously from their lips, as if the prayer as well as the oxygen was helping them breathe.