It's unfortunate that many headlines have referred to the recent decisions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America as something "Lutherans" have decided. I do not agree with the resolution and neither does my congregation or my synod, the Evangelical Lutheran Synod.

Lammas is rooted in ancient Celtic practices dating back considerably more than 2,000 years and is a time of thanking Divine Spirit and the Earth Mother for once again bringing forth life in many forms.

Advertising how spiritual we are seems to accomplish only one thing: alienating the very people we may be trying to reach. If we actually started to live like Jesus, rather than market him, perhaps we'd begin to see some of the positive changes we're looking for in the world.

When the news of the attack at the United States Holocaust Museum broke, I was taken back to when I received local threats from the same group to which the accused museum shooter, James vonBrunn, has ties. he old incident has faded, but this week we are again reminded that domestic terrorist groups and individuals still use violence against minorities in this country.

When I start a new day in general, do I have faith that the sun is going to rise, or do I reason based on prior experience that this will happen? What role does my belief in a creator and sustainer of the universe have to do with my faith or my reasoning that the sun will indeed rise?

Both clergy and adherents will occasionally find themselves at odds with certain aspects of their own faith tradition due to causes that are, more often than not, beyond their control. Is the circumstance significant enough to destroy the faith-follower relationship?

For too many people today, life itself is flat and bland and without the basic flavor living requires. You and I, whatever our religious identity, are the condiments of life. Our words, gestures, empathy, sharing and openness truly do give hope to people otherwise drowning in a sea of indifference and, often, unjust insecurity.

One of the unfortunate tendencies of religion, from my own experience, is that we tend to surround ourselves only with people who think like we do. This limits our own ability to think, to learn, to ask questions, to grow.

As part of a recurring series of columns by local religious leaders, Chip Roush, senior pastor at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Grand Traverse, writes on last week's beheading of a muslim woman, allegedly by her husband, in Orchard Park, N.Y.: "I grieve for Aasiya Hassan, and her children and family -- and for the entire Islamic community in the United States. This crime will exacerbate the mistrust and fear with which many view Muslims."

Each of us is a story; an infinite series of stories contained in a book with a sometimes hard and sometimes soft cover. We are fiction, non-fiction, fantasy, reality and occasionally all of those at the same time. We are the characters, narrators, writers, scenery, readers and critics; and because we are wonderfully and mysteriously human our characters are happy, sad, wonderful, miserable, generous and stingy in ways that would make even Ebenezer Scrooge blush.

Last week NPR reported that fewer young adults believe in God. I did not hear the entire program but began to think about what non-belief might mean -- and it might mean something positive! If some significant number of young adults are rejecting the notion of God as depicted in much of Biblical literature and as poorly taught in most religious education and formation classes ... good.

God and I walk in the early morning. I take the dog along. God talks. I listen. The dog sniffs and pretends she can still hunt. We go early because God is busy; my joints ache if I don't move soon after arising, and the dog has needs to address.

We have choices to make every day and they involve the subjects and predicates of our lives. If we choose to see life as merely noun and verb, there is no room for poetry or story; boredom quickly sets in.

Dear Presidential front-runners: It is about words!

In the new book, "Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light," we learn that in her more private writing, Mother Teresa wrote of strong doubts and the great length of her "dark night." I believe Teresa's angst and agony are perfectly understandable within one who worked with the poorest of the poor under the most wretched of conditions.