Written on the 25th anniversary of September 11, 2001 I. The morning the words ran out I made my living with words. I was trained as a journalist. I spent years in public affairs and crisis communication for energy and chemical companies, writing the sentences that get said when something has gone badly wrong. I studied how disputes are negotiated and how public arguments are framed. By the autumn of 2001 I was in Houston, teaching and advising at a graduate school of theolog

He was drawn from the water, and then Drawn into fire. We remember Moses, Who fled to Midian and Found on Horeb A bush that burned Without being consumed. Light without heat, Presence without possession. He led Israel through the sea As though it were dry ground, and Climbed Nebo To die within sight of a Promised Land he would not enter. Yet he entered. On Tabor he stood beside Elias In the uncreated light, His long waiting was fulfilled in Christ, Glorified and Transfigured.

This prayer to the Holy Spirit was written by St. Symeon the New Theologian (949–1022) who saw the Spirit before him. "Come, true light...

Humans have a capacity for understanding, and living, within the infinitude of God now and into eternity. It is a fact and a desire deep within us. It pervades our body, our intellect, our emotion, our relationships, and most importantly, our spirit. For the vast majority of people, however, there is a failure even to recognize its presence, God's inward presence, at any level. For some, there is a dismissal of what is beyond the human intimacies of hearing, seeing, touching,

Seeking heaven, the Sun the Moon the Clouds, and the Rain. Searching earth, the Mountains, the Oceans, the Desert, and the Ice. Seeing people, the Hesychastic, the Apophatic, the Concerned, and the Caring. Meeting death, and its captives, all those thousands upon millions, spiritually dead. I will pray For you For that is what I do, Not because I am worthy But that is what He bid me do.

How can this be? Pouring Your love into my heart? Filling my mind with Your knowledge? How can You want me before you in prayer? Such a wretched soul Crying for my sin. Rending my garments In a wilderness of my own making. Hiding and Avoiding. Repenting and Hoping? There I am. Helplessly Loving you with all my heart Desiring to fulfill Your will. Daring to be close to You now Imagining life with You for all eternity. Seeking Your face Warming by Your light. "What is this spin

You are the Alpha and the Omega. I trust you are behind me I trust you are ahead of me. It's this middle thing We call life That I don't trust so much - At least half of it anyway. To my right I see the angels and the saints Interceding and protecting Praying and encouraging. To my left I see the demons and the detractors Interrupting and attacking Sneering and antagonizing. This path makes me tired. I hurt all over. And why not? It did the same to You. The Via Dolorosa They

You fill me With Divine Love You surround me With Divine Fire You sustain me With Divine Waters You lead me With Divine Light I am not worthy of this Yet Here you are Never letting go Always reminding me I am in the world, But not of the world. I love you With every ounce of my being. Save me from myself and Sanctify me. An 18th c. icon of Pentecost from a private collection via Wikimedia Commons.

"The silence of the soul is one of the mysteries of the coming age." - St. Isaac the Syrian, The Four Books of St. Isaac the Syrian,...