Night deepens.The candle burns low.I reach the next line of the Creed:He descended into hellAnd I pause.The words fall like a stone into silence.Yesterday he suffered.Today he sleeps.The world holds i...

Qui Conceptus est de Spiritu Sancto, Natus ex Maria Virgine (Conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary)The afternoon arrives,The air tastes of rain.I reach the next line:Conceived by the H...

Rain taps against the window.A kettle hums.Somewhere the news mutters of conflict, climateand cost.I reach the next line:And in Jesus Christ.The room grows still.Not an idea now,but a man.A man with c...

The recycling lorry grinds past.Children head to work and school.Then stillness returns.After prayer, I step outside.The dawn leans in,dew on grass,a robin’s sermon,breath rising like incense.Creator ...

A siren fades in the distance.Tea cools by the windowsill.I reach the next line—I believe in God, the Father Almighty.The words familiar,but this morning they hesitate on my tongue.Almighty.A word I’v...

He spokeeach nighton the radio.Crackling across kitchensand darkened barrios,his voicewalked through walls,lingered among the people,a challenge to the powerful.Farmers stoppedto listen.Soldiers too.He named the dead,named the killers.Named the hopethat God had not forgottenthose withouta voice.He knewwhat it would cost.“If they kill me,”he said,“I will rise againin the people.”And he did.But first,he watched San Salvadorshake with sirens,heard the bootsand broken glasson Calle Rubén Darío,saw t

East of Eden: The Last SermonI. Bedside – GospelShe sat by his bedside—hospice light low, steady,the quiet sliced onlyby distant wheels and machines.Psalms folded tight in her fingers.\He, the old priest,skin thin as brittle parchment,eyes flickering like candle flames.They read Psalm 23—verse by quiet verse—soft as a prayer.\“I trained in Oxford,ordained in Durham,used to preach fire,used to preach hell,” he said.“But it’s the tears I remember.The woman in the fourth pew—sobbing,her son gone—an