Mother Claire's Sermons

  In the television show Doctor Who, there are villains called Carrionites. For anyone who’s seen Doctor Who, it’s the Shakespeare episode. They seem like witches, but in Doctor Who the answer is never magic - it’s always science, and a science that is different or more advanced than what we have on earth, so the Carrionites are simply aliens who harness the power of words, using the right words in the right places to gain control over their foes. Carrionites placed great importance on knowing the name of an individual to give them personal, one-on-one power. Once The Doctor figures out with whom he’s dealing, he says, “I name you Carrionites!” At which they are repelled for a bit. In reality, the belief in the power of a name is certainly not a more advanced idea. It is an ancient method of making declarations about your relation to and power relative to others. In antiquity, knowledge of someone’s name or identity was thought to provide power over that person. So, when the unclean sp

My cat, Scribbles, is allowed in every room in the house except for one. She is not allowed in the office. If she gets in, she eventually climbs up behind my husband’s desk, will end up in a drawer, and will get stuck. Every time. She could go literally anywhere else in the entire house. But she spends a good portion of her day sitting outside that office door, mad that she can’t get in, and waiting for any opportunity for the door to be open for a little longer than we should leave it open so she can slink in. We like to think we’re smarter than cats. We at least have some more logic, right? But when it comes down to it, the cat disobeys me for the same reasons we disobey God. She thinks she knows better. She really wants to do what she wants to do. She doesn’t remember how badly it went last time. Even when she does remember - which I know she does because she runs away as soon as she sees the spray bottle, not even waiting for the water to come - she still tries because maybe I won’

  I am a big fan of musical theater. My first love was Les Miserables. I could probably still sing the whole thing straight through, due to all of the times I listened to the two-CD set of the original Broadway cast. At the very beginning of the story, the thief Jean Valjean is paroled with his “yellow ticket of leave”, which identifies him as a convict and makes it near impossible for him to find reputable work or a place to stay. A bishop, who in the book Victor Hugo spends an inordinate amount of time introducing and establishing as a pious and honest man, takes pity on Valjean and offers him shelter. Valjean steals silver from the church and makes off with it into the night, but is caught and brought back to the bishop by the police, who are checking the veracity of Valjean’s lie that the bishop gifted him the silver. But the bishop surprises Valjean by not only lying by affirming Valjean’s story, but giving him the silver that he missed in his haste. When the police leave, the bis

 “Inflatable pool full of dad’s hot air / I was three years old splashin’ everywhere / And so began my love affair with water.” My own love of water can be dated even before three year old Brad Paisley in the lyrics from his song Water. I was born in central Louisiana and, although I have no memory of living there, my mother has always affirmed how brutally hot and humid it was, and there are some adorable pictures of me as a chunky nursing baby in a swimsuit in a triple decker inflatable wading pool. And that stuck throughout my life. From loving morning swim lessons in the cold early summer neighborhood pool while listening to my instructor through chattering teeth, to my brother’s and my petition campaign to keep city pools open one summer despite budget cuts, being in the water has always been an important part of my life and one I want to pass along to my children. One of the most important things I learned through all of my years in the water is to never be too confident. To not