In the Lectionary

We love to look at people and judge them on the basis of what we see. We looked at Lance Armstrong and saw a guy who beat cancer and won Tour de France titles. We saw Bill Cosby as a barrier-breaking comedian and father figure.

In our Gospel text, some of Jesus’ disciples find his teaching hard. Eating his body? Drinking his blood? I didn’t sign up for this. Couldn’t I just pray for you?

If Solomon were an older and more experienced ruler when God appears to him in his dream, I wonder if he would ask for wisdom.

We are to work honestly, work with our hands, and work so that we can share with those in need.

In this week’s reading, Bathsheba, the woman David drew dripping out of her bath and into his story, is not named.

I don’t want to identify with David, with this king who knows no limits. But why, pray God, does his arrogance feel so familiar?

“Many were coming and going, and they had no leisure, even to eat.” I think of the many lunches spent at my computer with a sandwich.

I like Mark’s frequent mention of how people felt. In this week’s text, Herod is greatly perplexed about John the Baptist.

As Jesus prepares to send the Twelve, his experience of failure seems to color his instructions.

Two people in great distress do what a third, the Gerasene demoniac, has already done: they interrupt and rearrange Jesus’ day.

Like the stories that come before it, the storm at sea is a parable of reversal.

I have come to realize how mysterious a thing a seed is.

I wonder if Nicodemus knows what he’s getting into. What draws him to Jesus? What motivates any of us to come to Jesus?

It is clear in Acts 2 that a party is taking place—that dreams and visions are not meant to be dreamt alone.

Once again we have journeyed through Jesus’ death and resurrection—only to be left watching Jesus leave.

An ancient definition of God says that God is an intelligible circle whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.

The more I read the beginning of John 15, the more I come to believe that it is about the Lord’s Supper.

When I pray the words of Psalm 23, the “you” I address them to is God. But I hope others will overhear.

Touch me and see, said the prisoners. Shake my hand and discover that I am human like you.