“As Good And As Bad As I”
Sunday, just as I passed the bushes pictured above—”Somerbridge” boosts thousands of lilac bushes in bloom this week— a car pulled to the curb, its passenger-side window rolled down, and a young, pleasant-looking woman plaintively called, “Can you help me?
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“Pray you, love, remember.”
The more I read Robert Rossner’s The Year Without an Autumn: Portrait of a School in Crisis, the more I realize I’ve forgotten way more than I remember about the 1968 crisis Rossner chronicles. Which is startling! For not only was I
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Holding All of It
I’m holding a place for transformation. I’m holding a space for Love. And, apparently, when it comes to the vulnerable, the preyed upon, I’m holding my breath. This morning, much to my surprise, I realized I’d been holding on to
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Piece. Peace.
I used to think, if you want peace, work for justice. But during worship this past Sunday it came to me: If you want peace, work for peace. I saw the inter-relatedness of issues I’ve siloed I’m my heart. Affordable
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Wicked Wrong
Like everywhere else, Greater Boston has its own rhythms, its own special events—and its residents mark their calendars accordingly. In an area dominated by college students, for example, Moving Day, September First, equals tie-ups all over the city as thousands
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“Profound, Deep Work”
Sunday I had the privilege to hear Dr. Amanda Kemp talk about “holding the space for transformation.” Wow. Just. Wow. Or, as my late, beloved friend, George Preston, used to say: “Good stuff!” So I invite you to acquaint/reacquaint yourself with
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“There is a crack in everything”
Yeah. It’s broke. It’s been broke a long time. (Some of us pretended otherwise. We can’t now.) Some of us are broke, too. Just getting by. Phone calls, marching, showing up, being public, getting arrested? Too public. Too dangerous. Too
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Love as a Verb
My bedroom is on the first floor and I live on a busy street so, late one night last week, when a fire truck’s flashing lights shone through my venetian blinds as it roared past, it almost made
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“Noli Me Tangere”: The backstory
It was years ago, in the midst of the random opulence and higgledy-piggledy of Boston’s Gardner Museum, that I fell in love with Mary Magdalen. This one. “I may not yet know how to love Jesus,*” I thought, instantly attracted to Raphael’s redhead.
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“The Stranger Among You”
I live in Somerville, a sanctuary city, and my faith community is located in Cambridge, another sanctuary city. As the xenophobia in this country becomes ever more vicious, I’ve been been examining what this dual citizenship means. Not in terms
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Losing A Step
I fell yesterday—on a shoveled-bare, brick and asphalt sidewalk maintained by Harvard University. Because of the icy sidewalks all over Somerville and Cambridge yesterday, I’d been wearing YakTrax; one coiled wire had apparently got caught in a gap between two
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“Preparing”
When I’d told an aging activist I was going to a CD training on Saturday he’d snorted: “What’s to learn? You go limp. End of training!” But I don’t roll that way. If I’m considering something hard, something I’m scared
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Numbered
On the thirty-first anniversary of the Challenger tragedy and the same, infamous day Muslims were being refused entry into this country, I saw “Hidden Figures.” That such an unlikely competitor to “Rogue One” has been such a surprising, box office
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“Throw sand in the gears of everything.”
Read this post-election, forget-signing-petitions article last week; unfortunately, it makes perfect sense. And so I’m left with The Question—What does resistance look like? For me?  How do I gum up the works? Non-violently. Here’s how far I’ve gotten: 1. Need to mobilize,
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“The World Will Be Saved by the Western Woman.”*
In high school Latin we’d been taught that “E pluribus unum” had actually been a Roman salad recipe! So in this time of great transition (and fear) I’m wondering what our country’s salad bowl looks like. How out of Many
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Who Gets to Say What’s True?
Saturday I saw “Fences.” And one line from the Denzel Washington (Troy) and Olivia Davis (Rose) movie, set in Pittsburgh in 1957, hit me just as hard in 2016 as had the same line in the staged version—which I’d seen
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Go Figure!
What a species we are! We give the exalted name “Splendid Fairywren” to an iridescent, Australian bird—yet kill it and stuff it and put it in a glass case so others of our species may marvel at it! Splendid, indeed!
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It’s The Truth
Perhaps apocryphal: Harvard College’s motto, a crimson shield with three open books with “Ve,” “Ri” and “Tas,” divied over the three books signifies that its students read at least that number to know The Truth. Know something? I’m fine with
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How Sweet the Sound
When you’ve traveled around the sun as many times as I have, and been blessed, as have I, to know a host of lovely people, you’ll want to send off a LOT of Season’s Greetings* cards, right? I do. And,
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Oh, God!
This morning I woke up beseeching God for a full-on intervention to save our planet—then groggily remembered that I don’t even believe in an Almighty who listens to my prayers. (My God’s more a verb than a noun.) More fully
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Hold ON!
We’re deep into it, aren’t we? Joanna Macy’s “Great Turning”? I, mother of Hope, choose to believe we are. (Can I get an Amen, Pantsuit Nation?) Yet clearly, painfully, horrifically, we’re smack-dab in the middle of The Power That Be’s
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What Righteousness Sounds Like
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It Begins
Friday night I went to the Huntington Theater to see “Bedroom Farce.” (I have season tickets; that’s why.) And noticed, as the audience filed in, that the elderly man seated in front of me had dropped his program when he’d sat
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Stronger Together
Like you, maybe, I’ve somehow been inducted into the 1.3 million-member Pantsuit Nation on Facebook.  Numbed, worn out by this long and painful and ugly election, I’d been unwilling to read what contributors had to say. Until this one grabbed my
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