It seems like the gospel writer is sneaking in little mean hearted comments just to make sure that we don’t mistake Judas’ remark for the remark of a caring person. Because, on the surface of it, it does seem like the objection of a caring person.
The kid has everything. I have nothing. He is free, and he is blind. I am bound, yet I see. It is a strange truth.
To worship a God who inspires violence, is to worship violence. And I do not worship violence. There’s enough of that already in our world.
You look at the painting, and you say to yourself, “Yes it is! It is a pipe!”
It’s like you are having an argument with the painting.
In Chinese landscape paintings, you might occasionally see a human, or the hint of human presence…
Not to be outdone by a bunch of scrawny pigeons, Isabel ran at them, waving her hands and kicking her feet.
This had better results. The pigeons flew away.
But something else also flew.
I opened the door and placed the milk jug into the snow.
We sat there, in the quiet, looking out at the empty ball field.
“I used to play here when I was a kid,” he said.
It doesn’t matter who you are or who you love. You are welcome here.
