Reign of Christ (Year A, RCL)

God "has put all things under his feet." This includes the NFL.

Pope Francis calls us to internalize the planet's pain.

Why would Psalms and Cormac McCarthy's novel Blood Meridian pop into my head?

On Ascension Day, with the readings from Luke and Acts in danger of being embalmed by archaism, the reading from Ephesians is a gift.

Ezekiel 34:21-22 provides a particularly poignant image of God the shepherd’s care for the “least of these”:

Because you pushed with flank and shoulder, and butted at all the weak animals with your horns until you scattered them far and wide, I will save my flock, and they shall no longer be ravaged.

Reading these verses reminds me of a day several years ago, when our family visited a local petting zoo in Atlanta.

God has put "all things under his feet." Shouldn't we be worried about such a portrayal of absolute power? 

The preacher faces several challenges in these Ascension texts. How can we present Jesus’ departure from the earth as an occasion for not sorrow but celebration? How to translate the kingship and hierarchical language into imagery that speaks to a world no longer governed by kings and monarchs?

Feminist biblical scholars note a third challenge: How can we counter Luke-Acts' use of the Ascension to exert a degree of social control?

As I mentioned before, I’ve been reading this strange book called The Spiritual Meadow, written by sixth-century wandering monk John Moschos. One of the last stories in the book was as relevant to my daily existence as any story I have read in a long time. I have only the vaguest idea what it means, but I do know it’s another weird monk joke. And this one was aimed directly at me.

The story goes like this: In the ancient city of Antioch, the church had various kinds of social services. “A man who was a friend of Christ” used to gather supplies and give them out to people in need.

"How can you defend those people?" That's a question we public defenders hear a lot.

The one who puts all things under his feet is doing something in the world.

Michael Moore's work is that of a repentant sinner called to bring the news—not all of it good—to folks who would rather do without it.

To build stronger communities, we need to get in the habit of recognizing what undergirds our relationships. We can't afford to take it for granted.

I'm not a big fan of reality TV, yet I'm drawn to one reality show: Undercover Boss.

Benedictine monks are famous for taking Matthew 25:36 to heart.

Does our discomfort over God’s judgment come from the fear of taking sides? Or the fear of being found on the wrong one?