A sermon preached at the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity, Quebec City Readings: Genesis 28:10-19a; Psalm 139:1-11, 22-23; Romans 8:12-25; Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43 Clouds of smoke, billowing. Walls of flames, closing in. There is no question that creation is, in
A sermon preached at the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity, Quebec City Readings: Genesis 22:1-14; Psalm 13; Romans 6:12-23; Matthew 10:40-42 Many years ago, in a church far, far away from this one, I heard a story. A true story. A disturbing story. In
A sermon preached at the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity, Quebec City Readings: Genesis 18:1-15; Psalm 116:1, 10-17; Romans 5:1-8; Matthew 9:35—10:8 "I want to go to church." These were not the words our tree planting crew expected to
A sermon preached on Pentecost Sunday, at St. Michael's Anglican Church, Québec City. Sermon texts: Acts 2:1-21; Ps 104:25-35, 37; 1 Cor 12:3b-13; Jn 7:37-39 "All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in
A Sermon drawing on 1 Peter 3:13–22 · John 14:15–21 "'People brought ashore opposite church cry for water,' he wrote. 'Old man crawling, in his filthy shirt, out of bed on hands and knees, with his pot to get water out of a
Jeremiah 31:1–6 · Acts 10:34–43 · Matthew 28:1–10 "We are soot-covered urchins running wild and unshod We will always be remembered as the orphans of God They will dig up these ruins and make flutes of our bones And blow a hymn to the
Readings: Exodus 17:1–7 · Psalm 95 · Romans 5:1–11 · John 4:5–42 I imagine, that it was a hot day when the Samaritan woman set out. I imagine the midday sun heating her skin as she walked to the well—sweat beading on her forehead. I imagine
A Sermon on Genesis 12:1–4a, Romans 4:1–5, 13–17, and John 3:1–17 "Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I
I don’t know about you, but I used to love apocalyptic films: Alien invasions, panicked pandemics, climate change catastrophes, government breakdowns, and nuclear fallout—our culture has depicted its own destruction in a myriad of ways. And I use to love them all. At least I did, back when
“What is the meaning of hope in a period of history when things are getting worse?” This is a question the Canadian theologian Gregory Baum asked as he watched in helpless horror as the first Gulf War began in the early 90’s. Ever an Augustinian, Baum saw this war
Let’s not kid ourselves—we are living in the midst of ruins. Like a boreal forest that has been clearcut and replanted, the landscape might, at first glance, appear as if the trees we see now are the trees that always were. Yet the health, the very identity of
I can pinpoint the moment I first felt it. Like the feeling of shock plunging into a pool of icy water, followed by a gasp for air—and then the numbness. The moment was a church meeting in which, early in my ordained ministry, a community was debating putting forward