33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A, RCL)

When the true master returned, he found Douglass using his gifts for justice.

Irena Sendler, who smuggled hundreds of children out of the Warsaw Ghetto, was a modern-day Deborah.

After each service, I sweep up the dirt, specks of plastic, and tendrils of hair.

This master's ways are celebrated by the world, not by Jesus.

In times like these, we need heaven.

What does Judges 4-5 mean to abused women who fought back?

Once the servant digs the hole, is there any way out?

Some parables sound like bad jokes.

We laughed with hope as we witnessed a new generation hearing an ancient truth.

In my Century lectionary column for this week, I wrote about Zephaniah 1 and 1 Thessalonians 5, with their shared theme of the “day of the Lord.” Zephaniah’s account is particularly fearsome, and it serves as important background for the medieval liturgical text “Dies Irae.”

I chose to focus on these passages because they are hard to hear. Initially they seem so alien, and yet on second reflection, their scenes of destruction are so terribly familiar.

Are our days of destruction the "day of the Lord"?

The point isn't the money; it's the risk.

A lot of people didn't like Tony Perkins' CNN Belief Blog post last week, and rightly so. Jesus was a free marketer, long before the concept was developed? Sure, if you say so.

When I preach, I am absorbed in faces. I'm captured by the sustained opportunity preaching creates to gaze into the faces of those I am seeking to serve as a pastor. In worship, it seems more obvious that others are seeing me. In fact, I am truly seeing them. I see and absorb all kinds of things about people during these moments of proclamation. The most profound observation is also the most obvious: they are a gift.

Talanta doesn't refer to a special ability I have, my passion in life, or this little light of mine. It certainly isn’t a mere $100.