Terrance Klein

The River Thames froze in January of 1649 nbsp The King asked Thomas Herbert the Parliamentarian official attending him to dress him in two shirts lest the rabble watching him die think that he shivered from cowardice Charles insisted ldquo I fear not death Death is not terrible to me bl

Can nature be more rarified than in a rainbow Earth donates water droplets Sunlight supplies the rest A rainbow is the most ethereal element of God rsquo s creation Small wonder it was chosen to be the sign of God rsquo s covenant In the presence of water light is reflected refracted dispers

Word, gesture and substance come together in an act that is inherently communal.

Life doesn rsquo t come with lines We draw those ourselves Of course without them the world would be so blurred as to lack definition though the danger is drawing lines that divide without purpose Whatever their original intention they can leave us detached from others who then appear as ali

The poem doesn rsquo t require explanation though some might be surprised to hear such a somber sound from Robert Frost I have been one acquainted with the night I have walked out in rain mdash and back in rain I have outwalked the furthest city light nbsp I have looked down the saddest city lane

Alzheimer’s. Racist. Proposal. Pregnancy. Cancer. Words are not weak. They constantly rewrite our scripts.

I know the sound of despondency I hear a lot of it in confession People come to acknowledge their sins but as their story unfolds they can rsquo t help but to express a dejected soul one wounded over some intractable relationship It rsquo s always a relationship Despondency would seem to mak

A reflection for the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, by the Rev. Terrance Klein

Saturday 7 p m Though neither of us yet knows ineluctable forces are already moving young Anthony and me toward our terrifying rendezvous I have baptisms after the Spanish language Mass Gregorio has lit the large Paschal Candle which stands on its impressive sculpted stand near the font Four

We know nothing of Lila rsquo s parents We meet her in a home for migrant workers where for the most part she is ignored and neglected In the opening words of nbsp Lila nbsp Marilynne Robinson rsquo s new novel ldquo The child was just there on the stoop in the dark hugging herself against