Some time ago I visited a church in which the sermon, delivered by a guest preacher, concluded with the sentence “If you do this you’ll be happy, and your neighbour will be happy.”

I don’t often think about Kyrie – and, in fact, when I saw the name, just like that, “Kyrie,” in my newsfeed last week I thought I was seeing the Greek word kyrie, meaning “Lord,” as in kyrie eleison, “Lord, have mercy.” That was an exciting moment: New Testament Greek breaking

Over the past few weeks I have had several long conversations with pastors who seem dangerously close to burn-out. They’re worried because some 25 to 30 percent of their congregations haven’t returned to church following the easing of pandemic restrictions.

The first time I encountered the term eating disorder I was about twelve and read a letter addressed to Dear Abby, a syndicated advice column published in many North American newspapers.

There’s a growing ache at the heart of many of our western societies. Its name is loneliness. And a stream of actors has been calling it out of late: psychologists, pastors, pandemistas, even politicians.

Eight years ago, our family moved into the heart of Toronto. One of the surprises that came with this move was being freed from my car; something I was completely dependent on while pastoring in suburbia. Now I was taking public transit every day as I travelled into Wycliffe College.

“Stuck at home”

stuck: “mired, glued, compelled, resolutely adhered, halted, saddled disagreeably”

home: “one’s place of residence, domicile, habitat”

How very good and pleasant it is

People, look east! The time is near

Of the crowning of the year.

Make your house fair as you are able

Trim the hearth and set the table.

People, look east and sing today

We’ve all had enough, it seems. And yet we only want more. Shoulders curled forward, phones in our hands, eyes fixed to the screen, our brains wired to thumb endlessly deeper into the digital matrix: this is becoming the posture of humanity.

Esther was one of many gracious life-long members of our church. A real salt-of-the-earth type, who with her husband had raised three kids to be successful, fully-launched adults. She was now thoroughly enjoying a bunch of grandkids, most of whom were already teenagers.

I found Jesus a seven-minute walk from Wycliffe College. At first, I could not quite recognize him. Lying on a park bench, thickly covered with an old blanket, he was layered with snow. As I sat down on the bench beside him, though, I noticed his feet.

It began in my childhood home in northwest India. My father was a Canadian Anglican priest who, after serving as a padre during the horrors of the Second World War, went to minister to a leper colony and small Anglican parish in the foothills of the Himalayas.

With World Writers Day having been celebrated earlier this month, and World Book Day (as declared by the United Nations) coming up on April 3, it seems a fitting time to revisit the story of 20th-century journalist, author, and social activist Dorothy Day.

With World Writers Day having been celebrated earlier this month, and World Book Day (as declared by the United Nations) coming up on April 3, it seems a fitting time to revisit the story of 20^th century journalist, author, and social activist Doro

I was asked to write a blog on the topic, “Why it’s never too late to study theology.”  It seemed like a nice, safe topic that wouldn’t require too much of me in what is a busy part of the academic term.

A vulnerable senior loses their life savings to a fraudulent telemarketing scheme. A young mother gets cancer. Innocent lives are lost to a crazed gunman, or a drunk driver, or in a plane crash. We seem to hear about such tragedies almost every day.