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From September 1 to October 4, Christians around the world mark the Season of Creation, a relatively recent development in the liturgical calendar.

  Too much of politics caters to our craving miracles; faith is often about finding some magical safe place. But mystical experiences are about real life. In the season of Ordinary Time, a most extraordinary event breaks …

Love is, of course, an answer. And while most people of faith can agree on the command to love our neighbors, we need to face the reality of this moment. What is happening among us — the transnational struggles with democracy and attacks on human rights — is far more than a failure to love our neighbors.

It isn’t just Jesus’ birthday. The whole of creation is reborn.

President Joe Biden signed the Respect for Marriage Act at a ceremony on the South Lawn of the White House. The new law creates federal protections for both same-sex and interracial marriages, effectively guarding these rights against the possibility of the Supreme Court overturning the rulings that previously granted them.

This week’s reading is a Sunday school children’s favorite — the story of Zacchaeus, a tax collector who climbs a tree to see Jesus.

Although we don’t often think about it, the Lord’s Prayer is a takedown of Roman economics and politics. Jesus teaches his followers to leave behind the whole system of indebtedness that obligates people to Caesar.

Many people are confused, angry, and worried about the future — while others feel their longest hoped-for political dreams have become reality. The air is full of tension, even on these sunny summer days, and it seems as if the nation has somehow cracked open.

Today’s text — commonly referred to as “the Gerasene Demoniac” — is from the Gospel of Luke. The miracle story of the exorcism and the pigs appears in Mark, Luke, and Matthew with some variations.

Maybe my evangelical kin — who believed themselves to be reformers of lukewarm or dead faith — wouldn’t have welcomed a real Reformer in their midst. Because they were already right. They didn’t need reform. They certainly wouldn’t have embraced anyone who challenged their worship, theology, or leaders.

This isn’t an easy story — it is especially hard to avoid the pitfalls of any Christian preaching about the destruction of the Temple (I pray I didn’t contribute to those anti-Semitic interpretations!). But I think it is one of the most important stories in Mark, a short section of verses that help make sense of the entire gospel.

This morning, I preached at Platte Woods United Methodist Church in Kansas City. They’ve been doing a sermon and education series on Freeing Jesus – and they asked me to come and finish up their study of the book.

When I got the vaccine, I thought I’d want to run into the streets singing with joy like a giddy giant cicada. But in recent days, I’m struck by how anxious I feel – far more anxious than any time in the pandemic except at the very beginning.

This week is Canada Day and July 4, two celebrations of national life in North America. Both holidays are particularly complicated – even painful – this year as citizens in both Canada and the United States struggle with legacies of colonialism and racism in history and our political lives.

A number of writers have been quietly working behind the scenes on a project called How to Heal Our Divides — where we’re bringing together practitioners of what Brian McLaren calls “un-division” to share their wisdom and stories.

I’ve been thinking about sin and evil in recent days.

That’s somewhat unusual for me. But it is difficult to avoid the daily news assault of people treating others badly, political treachery and revenge, random and meaningless gun violence, and racial and ethnic hatreds tearing nations apart. Sin and evil are on full display.

The award-winning author of “Grateful” goes beyond the culture wars to offer a refreshing take on the comprehensive, multi-faceted nature of Jesus, keeping  his teachings relevant and alive in our daily lives.

February 23, 1758 is an infamous date in American history. On that day, 263 years ago, Jonathan Edwards, Puritan minister and new president of Princeton, had his family inoculated against smallpox.

A New Year is only magical when we shine light in the darkness, when we choose to bless the world. It isn’t time to wait for miracles to happen, for some ritual to chase away what bedevils us.

The historical St Nick and the historical Jesus were real people, born in real places, in real cultures. They were not northern Europeans.

I don’t know if we can talk about religion and politics now. The moment to do so productively, openly, and with grace may have passed. There is so much hatred, so much anger, and so much division. We’ve forgotten how to listen. It doesn’t have to be this way. I long for something more, for the beautiful words to guide us to a better America.

  Religion News Service was quick to point out that Kamala Harris, the newly selected Democratic vice-presidential candidate, is both bi-racial and bi-religious: Harris, who was born in Oakland, California, to a Jamaican immigrant father…and an Indian immigrant …

We’re midway through back-to-back political conventions – and faith and politics has emerged as a hot topic for both Democrats and Republicans. Some observers were surprised at how much emphasis the Democrats put on religion last week; no one will be surprised when the GOP does the same – or more – in upcoming days. 

It is yet another Monday of what will most likely be a difficult week. There are many issues of concern, much to be worried about with both the pandemic and politics. In recent days, however, I’ve found myself less anxious than in the past, as I’ve leaned on these words from the late Marcus Borg’s final book, “Convictions”

I feel like we are being strangled, the life choked from us – disbelief, sorrow, fear, rage. Violence in the streets, jails, and cages at our border, targeting black and brown men, women, and children; a virus stalking us all, turning familiar comforts into threats.

The whole message of the Christian Scripture is based in the idea of metanoia,

That is precisely when we recognize our common humanity

  As I write, the State of the Union is just about to begin, results from the Iowa caucuses are finally coming in, and the Senate prepares to vote on impeachment. And it is only February. What …

“Jesus heals not only us as individuals but a savior has been born, one who will heal the world from all its ills.”

God, there are days we do not feel grateful. When we are anxious or angry. When we feel alone. When we see and know injustice. When we do not understand what is happening in the world, or with our neighbors.

A few weeks ago, I stood on a hill in Edinburgh, Scotland, at sunset. Somewhere on that mound, one of my ancestors was burned as a heretic by the Catholic Church and died as martyr to the new Protestant faith. As the sun fell toward the horizon, the sky turned red – a fitting fiery tribute – and through the blazing clouds a double rainbow formed. A sort of divine apology for whole mess? I couldn’t help but wonder.

Last week, a CNN editor reached out to me and asked if I would write a piece for them regarding the crowd at President Trump’s rally in Greenville, North Carolina, that shouted “Send her back!” in response to his criticism of four Congresswomen. The editor wanted me to reflect on how Christians could justify chanting such a thing. 

It is a great time to catch up on podcasts with Diana Butler Bass! Please listen, enjoy, and share with your friends.

Home is more than a house. It is a sacred location, a place of aspirations and dreams, of learning and habit, of relationships and heart. Home is the geography of our souls.

Are you envious because of my generosity? The question seemed to jump off the page. Far too often, I have felt envious because someone got something I felt I was entitled to – and I realized that I, like the laborers in the vineyard, begrudge God’s generosity. And, of course, envy and entitlement are major impediments when it comes to living a truly grateful life.

A few weeks ago, I went on a pilgrimage to a tree. Yes, a tree. A single, extraordinary tree named Pando. I’ve loved trees my entire life – their height, shade, spread, and grandeur, the distinctive beauty of each one. When I was little, I drew hundreds of pictures of trees. Despite their uniqueness, each individual tree looked remarkably like the others – a thick brown stick with a green cloud-like puff at the top. One tree, two trees, three . . . sometimes I would draw an entire forest of these trunks and leaves.