These are strange times. It’s Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, and I am genuflecting, responsively reading to a distant service, streamed into my office — socially distanced from a congregation that isn’t there — praying and singing the hymns of the Torah while sitting in my home office … and thinking of Jesus. How can I not? I picture Bishop Greenleaf standing at the holy ark, purple satin robes swaying like an ecumenical curtain while Deborah Joy Winans in the role of Charity Greenl...
These are strange times. It’s Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, and I am genuflecting, responsively reading to a distant service, streamed into my office — socially distanced from a congregation that isn’t there — praying and singing the hymns of the Torah while sitting in my home office … and thinking of Jesus. How can I not? I picture Bishop Greenleaf standing at the holy ark, purple satin robes swaying like an ecumenical curtain while Deborah Joy Winans in the role of Charity Greenl...
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