People who keep up with the news will, by now, be familiar with the name James Foley.
Jesus is with his friends, sharing a meal: he gives thanks to God for bread and shares it with them; he gives thanks to God for wine and shares it with them.
The folder is labelled “Emails I didn’t send to the Principal.” It contains one unsent message: a rant about leprechauns and St. Patrick and, Why so much of the former and so little of the latter?
For this edition’s column, I wanted to, once again, share a poem from my friend, Fr. Ewan MacPherson
This was an exciting summer for my family. There was the restful time away on a quiet island, visits with family and outdoor meals with friends. Among the highlights of these summer months, one stands out: the July 15 groundbreaking ceremony for our new home.
A little boy saw somebody walking two dachshunds on a leash. He asked his mother, “Is that person walking two dogs shaped like wieners, or two wieners that look like dogs?” His mother, seeing the dachshunds in a new light, answered, “Well, dear, I guess it’s just a pair-o-dachs.”
The oldest surviving copy of The Dominion Churchman—now called the Anglican Journal—dates back to Aug. 22, 1878.
This summer I had some extraordinary experiences of eucharist in stately cathedral churches, in a teepee set up in a gymnasium in Kingfisher Lake, Ont., and several lovely old parish churches celebrating milestone anniversaries in the service of the gospel.
Silence is something like one’s good health. It is most prized when abruptly taken away, most cherished when suddenly recovered, when, as with the rush of light, we suddenly realize that we have been deprived of it for a long time. Then as it returns, a wealth of rediscovered feelings comes with it. Silence begins as something external and it becomes a state of being.
A number of years ago I watched a television tribute to Bob Hope. Many different people who had played a significant role in his life took the microphone and sang back to Bob a verse of his signature tune, “Thanks for the Memories.”