Wandering Elder

I was recently reading through parts of the Gospel of Thomas, a non-canonical Gospel, when I once again found myself halted by one of the sayings contained therein:  "Jesus said, 'Whoever has come to know the world has discovered a carcass, and whoever has discovered a carcass, of that person the world is not worthy.'"  (Gospel of Thomas saying 56) What does that mean?  I find that though it is outside the Biblical cannon, it does seem to relate well to the Christian witness as well as what Dietrich Bonhoeffer would call "costly grace." With that in mind, I would offer this observation: There comes a time within everyone’s life where there is the potential for disillusionment. Usually this disillusionment manifests itself as a ‘mid-life crisis’ or a crisis of identity. Something that has defined one’s identity in a fundamental way is suddenly called into question. That something may be a particular political party of government, or it could

With Noah out and about on film (I haven't seen it yet, I have to admit), there is a tremendous call among Christian fundamentalists (at least in this area of the country) for more "Biblical" movies and more "Christian" movies that portray the "Biblical truths" as they are found in the Bible itself. All well and good.  But when you look to the entertainment industry for their cooperation in creating movies that reflect a particular understanding of the faith, you have to realize that it becomes an issue very much like prayer in schools. By this I mean that if we were to "allow" prayer in schools, exactly whose prayer would we be allowed to say?  Would that include Muslims?  Hindu prayers?  Or is it only for particular branches of the Christian family tree?  By the way, you can't outlaw prayer.  You or I can pray anywhere at anytime.  Just because it isn't sanctioned by the state doesn't mean it can't exist.  State sanct

In physics, there is an experiment (theoretical) known as the "twin paradox."  In it, two twins who are the same age begin moving.  One moves in a space ship at (or close to) the speed of light.  The other continues to move at the relative speed of life on earth.  When the two meet, the one who has traveled at (or near) the speed of light will have aged less than the one who remained on earth.  I won't get into the physics of it - you can look all that up, I'm sure - but what I did begin to ponder is the observation often made that nothing can travel at the speed of light, so the experiment can never take place. Well, the experiment can take place at speeds of less than the speed of light.  But my observation here isn't about that.  It is about the speed of light itself.  In American terms, the speed of light is 671 million miles per hour.  And, as a child, I used to hear that nothing can travel the speed of light.  Maybe not anything humans have built, but one

The opening song of the play (and movie) Rent asks the question, "How do you measure a year?"  The song goes on to offer a list of possibilities:  in inches, in cups of coffee, in laughter, or perhaps in sorrow.  I think each of us might use these criteria to measure time.  We ask things like, "How long has it been since so and so died?"  or "When was it we had to carry that wood up that hill?"  We all have different ways of measuring life. Yet the song goes on to ask one final question with regards to measuring a year.  "How about love?"  This is actually the answer the song settles on and is the underlying current in the whole production.  And while you may or may not like the musical or the movie, the question is a deep one.  Why don't we measure time through love?  Why can't we measure our accomplishments by demonstrations of love? I suppose that the song haunts me a little.  Partly because I hear in it someone asking the questio