Author Archives: Rosalind C Hughes

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About Rosalind C Hughes

Rosalind C Hughes is an Episcopal priest, poet, and author living near the shores of Lake Erie. After growing up in England and Wales, and living briefly in Singapore, she is now settled in Ohio. Rosalind is the author of A Family Like Mine: Biblical Stories of Love, Loss, and Longing , and Whom Shall I Fear? Urgent Questions for Christians in an Age of Violence, both from Upper Room Books. She loves the lake, misses the ocean, and is finally coming to terms with snow.

Vote!

Those of you who’ve read this blog before may remember that I became a US citizen remarkably recently – just in time, in fact, to register to vote today. Some friends who have become disillusioned by the political process are … Continue reading

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Year B Lent 2: The cross: hoping against hope

Jesus began to teach his disciples that he, the Son of Man, must undergo great suffering and be rejected by his own people, and killed, and after three days rise again. The promise of God with us is a strange … Continue reading

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A Tuesday lunchtime homily

A homily for today’s Eucharist. We used the weekdays of Lent lectionary: Isaiah 55: 6-11 Seek the Lord while he may be found, call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their … Continue reading

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Juxtapositions

Last Wednesday, I told a score of people or more that they were going to die. “You are dust,” I reminded them, “and to dust you will return.” And I marked their faces with ash. In the line was my youngest … Continue reading

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The slow fast

The slow fast ekes out each last bite of emptiness, hungry for desire.

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Fasting = Feasting on Life

Last night, as we finished serving the people, I looked into the chalice and made a quick decision: contrary to our usual practice, the remaining consecrated wine would be sent to the sacristy to be consumed or reverently disposed of … Continue reading

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Based on a true story

Wednesday’s child The pale girl carried a dark bruise so fresh I flinched, my breath drawn pity and a rush of outrage. I wanted to hold a cold hand to her brow. I wanted to grab her mother’s arm, demand … Continue reading

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An untitled, unfinished poem for Transfiguration Sunday

One on the plain, with water and a dove falling from the mouth of God, feathers chalking words onto the sky, its beak a piercing kiss; one on the mountaintop between the cairns, with fiery Spirit, lightning bright and thundering love, hailing acclamation … Continue reading

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Year B: Last Sunday after the Epiphany

When I told my youngest child that my mother had died, she said, “But she was supposed to get better!” A week or so later, when I was talking to my father about talking to an old friend, he asked, … Continue reading

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Creating Love

Like a table spread in the desert, a sheet of sand, shifting, alive with irridesence, moving grain against grain, rubbed smooth by one another; like a table spread in the desert – an oasis for a parched mouth, ripe figs brush the … Continue reading

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