I’d just sit there tense, angry, a little afraid, like a stone,” she later confided. I couldn’t participate.

I asked the elders to take turns leading our time together in devotions. Some jumped at the chance while others did so under duress. And

I’m suggesting that, “whatever this middle-assembly-thing is, we’re like ‘Swiss cantons’ unified and living together.”

I walked up front as directed and was presented with the small Star Quilt by the birthday lady herself, who wore a radiant smile.

I remember almost nothing of the service except those candles and the musical recordings that were played.

Would I have been impatient, fearing that if things took too long people would lose interest, or the experience would lose its meaning? I’ve certainly

Calvin went so far as to characterize the work done by civic officials as a “sacred and noble calling.”

Am I being judge-y here? Do I risk violating that cherished maxim from Christ’s Sermon on the Mount? “Judge not lest ye be judged.”

It is the “least of these among us” —the poor, the marginalized, communities of color, our children and grandchildren, and many of our fellow creatures

Every Sunday, an elder writes and leads a prayer of intercession for the congregation, and a deacon writes and leads a prayer for our context

I introduce the Rev. Carolyne Adhola, a priest in the Anglican Church of Kenya. Her story is both shocking and thrilling: shocking because of what