We gather in silence. It is dim and the sanctuary bare. We wear no colorful vestments and no banners fly. It is simple and stark.

Children catch on the fastest.
Basins come out from behind pews, with stacks of towels and pitchers of warm water. We practice first; showing how to pour the water over toes and ankles and heels, then wrap the foot in a fresh, dry towel.

I was seven months pregnant the day I was ordained. My white robe blossomed with my belly, and I waddled when I walked forward to receive the blessing of the community.

This is not radical.

My dad would often tell me, "You'll never quite understand my love for you until you are older and have little ones of your own." Like any good teenager, I would contradict his statement, rejecting the notion that parental love was different. But oh, the truth our forebears hold! Sure enough, I now have a little one I love in a unique and immensely strong way. Dad was right.

I love the four tenets of the Advent Conspiracy campaign: worship fully, spend less, give more, love all. I am glad to know that a new global network of amazing and helpful projects has sprung up because of the generosity of Christians.

Do you believe in the fiscal cliff? No really. Do you believe in this much-feared, all-consuming, cliff of economic doom?
It is stewardship season in many churches. Odd, really, that talk of stewardship is confined to a single season or even a single Sunday.