Author Archives: Rosalind C Hughes

About Rosalind C Hughes

Rosalind C Hughes is a priest 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. She serves an Episcopal church just outside Cleveland. 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.

The sin of Sodom

It reads like a folktale, and as such it has taken on a resonance that permeates our culture. When we think of Sodom, we think of sin. But when we think of the sin of Sodom, we often get it quite wrong. Continue reading

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Heron

The heron is back. No doubtit is not the same one as before.This heron is taller, leaner,fixes me with a bolder eye. No doubtthe old one is buried beneath the surface of shared memory, guiding this newcometo fertile fishing grounds. No doubt“One day … Continue reading

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Where we sit

This is the setting against which we do our work. The inequality of labour and economics: Abraham ordering his servant to butcher and prepare a calf in short order, while he stands with his guests; Martha run off her feet and out of her mind. The violence that erupts between those who do not understand nor see one another as a father, as a child, as a person, but code them as an obstacle, an aggressor, or a threat. Continue reading

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At the intersection, revisited

Listening to this morning’s Gospel of the parable of the Good Samaritan, envisioning the steep and scary road from Jerusalem down to Jericho, I was moved to revisit also the intersection referenced in yesterday’s prayer poem, to seek hope in the mercy that Jesus related. Where is our mercy? Where is our hope? Continue reading

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At the intersection

At the intersection of futility and ragehangs a monument to discord,its anthem the harsh horn punctuatedby arguments, epithets, and gunshots.It is not rooted in earth or tarmac,not rendered in stone or broken glass.You will breathe it unknowing in air hung … Continue reading

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Peace, and if not peace, then protest

If we feel as though defeat is always at hand, may it be a reminder of the cross of Christ, and be turned to our hope. If we feel as though the world is at war with itself, with us; if we think the world we thought we knew is strange and full of wolves, may it be a reminder of our own status as lost sheep, dependent on the love of our shepherd to find us and bring us home. If we feel as though peace has dissolved into protest, may we lift up our feet and find ourselves on the way of the Cross. Continue reading

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#GunstoGardens

Pistols into ploughshares Starve a fever, feed cold steel barrels into the forge Beneath scorched earth cool claythe kiln at earth’s core;creation’s heart of stone Beneath the concrete floorreverb of the hammer starts a rumour – revolution, evolution, healing – over the anvil, fever … Continue reading

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Among the living and the dead

When the demons saw Jesus, they were afraid. They begged for their lives. When Jesus showed mercy even to the demons, they proved their destructive nature by plunging the herd of swine into the sea. Did he not know it must be so? It was their nature to be evil spirits. It was, it is Jesus’ nature to be love. Continue reading

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Goose

I knew that just because I was inadequate to the task, that did not let me off the hook for doing what I could to try to relieve the suffering of another creature. Seeing his pain made me, in some obscure way, responsible for his healing. Continue reading

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It’s not nothing

What we did is not enough, but it was, I believe, inspired. What happened in DC this weekend is certainly not enough, nor is it yet even a done deal, but if it is a beginning, it is something. I remember learning about inertia in high school physics: a body at rest is inclined to continue to do nothing. A body that begins to move has the chance to collect momentum. Continue reading

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