Hammy – The Lord is in his holy temple. Let all the earth be silent before him. Didn’t Habakkuk say that? Inwardly a Jew, circumcised in spirit. Silence is worship – to quietly carry Isaac’s wood. In reverence for the Son of God unveiling his will beyond human tracing. Heaven all around, silent. In the…
I arrive at the coffee house early and enter to secure my dose of caffeine. The manager, Jen, is working alone behind the counter. “Hi – supermax coffee, room for cream.” She nods at this familiar order. “And is it okay if I assemble a few chairs? I want to read some poetry.” “Are you…
Chuang Tzu comes to visit on the terrace of the Coffee House of Grace, my imaginary, spiritual rest-stop near Jerusalem-from-above. We read over his book of brief anecdotal stories, called the Inner Chapters. They are related to disclosing the Tao, an interior, spontaneous type of spiritual or philosophic practice which may be translated as the…
Courtesy of translator David Hinton, three more Chinese poets, dating from 365 A.D. to 761, have arrived for tea and poetry readings in my Coffee House of faith. The years are distant, the geography is distant, but for just such reasons, the dialogue has substance. Their images and observations, their collective plights and pleasures, present…
After my encounter with the Chinese Poet, Tu Fu, of the 8th century A.D., courtesy of translator extraordinaire David Hinton, I found ancient Chinese poetry rather habit-forming. One of the great things about creating an imaginary coffee house like mine is its flexibility – anyone interested or interesting can be invited in. As it turns…
My self-assigned duty to write the next and final post on Citizens United has expanded into a major project. Like all such projects, it’s taking way longer than expected. In the interim, my daughter Elise married Alex at Auburn Valley State Park in Delaware, my son Nathan and daughter-in-law Rochelle brought Roslyn into the world…
In which our Vagabond Overhears a Confession One Saturday morning people are standing in front of the coffee house, speaking of various things, including the partisan nature of current politics, and why their particular causes have not been meeting with success. Sorrow features in these discussions, suggesting that I might offer to such people a…
In which our Vagabond Is Instructed from an Unlikely Source I wander into the coffee house on a Sunday afternoon, expecting to meet a friend, Andy Windsor, for a friendly game of theology chess. He is indeed situated in one of the large booths, chessboard set up. Andy is waiting for my arrival in an…
In which our Vagabond Seeks a City in Motion. It is early Saturday evening, the doors are open, the coffee house beckons. I enter into a crowd – young and old, in pairs, groups and singles, are standing in line, checking their phones, reviewing the menu board, sitting astride chairs, leaning on counters, stirring their…
Coffee House Discourse # 2 – In which our Vagabond Needs, and Finds, A Bridge I wander into the coffee house on a Saturday morning. The place is quiet – I interrupt a girl looking at her cell phone, who takes my order. I go for a toasted, buttered ‘everything bagel’ along with a large…