The couch in the Jordan River was a surprise. No, it was worse than that; it was downright obscene. I’d had an appointment with God for months, from the moment I’d received my itinerary. A holy moment on my calendar, penned in permanent ink. And now I stood along the upper reaches of the Jordan, … Continue reading The Couch in the Jordan River
Once upon a time, it was the custom of the land to give each newborn child a sweater. Every person in the child's village played a part in making the sweater. Some fed and watched the sheep, some sheared. Some spun thread, some dyed it brilliant colors. And some, called weavers, whispered incantations as they … Continue reading The Parable of the Magic Sweater
Imagine that a horde of people from Pennsylvania marched into Ohio and started killing everyone there because the god of Pennsylvania promised Ohio to them. You’ve never heard of the god of Pennsylvania, but you sure as shit aren’t going to just randomly start worshiping some god you never heard of just because the Pennsylvanians think you should.
Jack—the whole, human mess of him—brings me face to face with the problem of being tolerant vs. standing up for myself as a woman.
Dark nights happen to some and not others, and only God knows why. St. John of the Cross called it a holy experience. Tell that to my priest, I wanted to say. Tell it to my husband, who still mourns the “nice Christian girl” he thought he married.
Meditation is one of those things that has always been for other people. Patchouli-toothpaste white people with rustic-but-pricey cedar furniture and mandala wall hangings. People who "study" Japanese cooking. People with gurus and lots of time on their hands.
In spite of my best efforts, I am just not a secular person. I'm fascinated by religion, drawn irresistibly toward its ceremonies and symbolism like a moth to the flickering heart of a votive.
