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What does it mean to be truly human and fully alive in the twenty-first century? by Tom Hook August 20, 2023 We shall be known by the company we keep by the ones who circle round to tend these fires. It is time now, and what a time to be alive. In this Great Turning we shall learn to lead in love. These words from MaMuse might seem conflicting to the times we are living in. With the immense knowledge humankind possesses at present, and the myriad of crises the global communit

August 6, 2023 © Rev. Janet Onnie           In 1971 John Lennon wrote the wildly popular song, “Imagine”.  Some of the lyrics, “Imagine there’s no heaven, No hell below us, ” is core Universalist theology.”  No one is damned, all are saved.  What I find problematic, however,   is the lyric, “Imagine there's no countries, nothing to kill or die for – and no religion too.”  And also no religion??  The implication is that religion is the basis for all conflict and if we could j

By Andy Schmookler July 16, 2023 Who are we human beings by nature? Why has our story been such a troubled one? What do we need to do to achieve the kind of world we want? As a civilization, we have not had adequate answers to those questions. And an important part of the reason for that is this: We have not been seeing ourselves in the perspective that shows us some fundamental truths about the story of our species. For millennia, humankind developed its answers without good

by Bill Faw July 2, 2023 INTRODUCTION Happy Birthday, America. Happy 247 th Birthday. What kind of a nation are you? What kind of government do you have? Let us begin to answer that by considering this distinction between “nation” and “government”.  The “nation” constitutes the land and the people, while the “government” is the network of administrative, legislative, and judicial forces which governs the nation.       Christian nationalists generally blur that distinction an

This poem. by Linda Dove, was part of the Tight Lines service by Richard Foust. It was read at the end of Richard's talk. How often nowadays do you look long at that framed photo of your father on the dresser, his young smile fixed on you and mother? How often do you take time to imagine his hand cradling you when you were born, his hand tossing balls when you were ten, his hand doing high-fives with you way back when, his hand, as he aged, trembling, rough and worn? Remembe