{in this snippet of his forthcoming book “making manifest”–available april 2013–teacher, author, and poet dave harrity asks some questions that invite believers to think about what they’re adding to the world, and the creative implications of faith. if you’re in or near louisville on thursday november 29, you can catch him speaking on a panel about thomas merton and millennial faith practice at st. matthew’s episcopal church (330 North Hubbards Lane) at 7pm…}

And Mary said:

“My soul glorifies the Lord 

    and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 

 for he has been mindful

    of the humble state of his servant. 

From now on all generations will call me blessed, 

     for the Mighty One has done great things for me—

    holy is his name. 

His mercy extends to those who fear him,

    from generation to generation. 

He has performed mighty deeds with his arm; 

    he has scattered those who are proud in their … Read More »

{read part 1 of this post here…}

When my older brother at three years of age suffered a traumatic brain injury, he awoke three months later from a coma, unable to talk or walk. After two years of intense physical therapy he took his first step without a walker. He cried from the pain. That first step, re-doing and re-learning the simple action his body once knew, in a time before.

When I write I’m always faced with that first painful step. The act I’ve done so many times before, which feels like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, frozen in fear at the depth and width of words and stories. Rubem Alves, the Brazilian philosopher, opens The Poet, The Warrior, The Prophet describing a spider who weaves a cobweb in the corner of his office. “I did not see … Read More »

Each morning before work my father read his Bible in the living room while he pulled up his socks and laced his shoes. I waited in the hallway for him to close the book and I’d go to him and sit on his knee. When my father bought a Bible for me, and with it a purple devotional, I joined him in the living room, reading and bowing my head in silent prayer.

When my friends, burdened, come to me and say they no longer believe in God, I tell them I love them nonetheless and understand their plight; that the faith of their parents no longer resonates with their hearts. The words used to describe my faith, the ones I read in old translations and from bright colored devotionals, are clichés and I no longer know what they mean. I must … Read More »