Angel Wings and Anginetti

The next day, the news that Jesus was on the way to Jerusalem swept through the city. A large crowd of Passover visitors took palm branches and went down the road to meet him. They shouted, “Praise God! Blessings on the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hail to the King of Israel!" ~John 12:12-13 (NLT)

As Palm Sunday approaches I recall once again the holidays I celebrated as a child within the traditional context. Palm Sunday was a special holiday where I grew up; a memorable event that began at church and extended throughout the day with family. At Saint Peter's Episcopal Church, every worshiper received a few strands of palm; the long thin variety from the fan of the palm tree. As we waved the palm branches we sang, All Glory, Laud, and Honor and then during Sunday School we would fashion the palms into crosses to be shared with family and friends later in the day.

Vida Nueva

I must preach the Good News of the Kingdom of God to other towns, too, for that is why I was sent. ~Luke 4:43

Pastor Vicente Nolasco invited Stuart to share his experiences as a missionary at his church this past Sunday.

Going Kosher

Today, Stuart and I went on a road trip to Polanco with the hopes of finding Matzoh.

 Unlike in the US, where you can probably find it in any international isle of your local grocery store, we had to travel about an hour north by metro and taxi. 

Here at La Selecta we found our matzoh and horse radish.

My students will enjoy these and other treats on Tuesday when a guest missionary presents Christ in the Passover at Anna Sanders Seminary.

The Tower of Babel

(I preached today in our home church in Mexico City (Asamblea Cristiana). I will share my sermon with you here and in the next few blogs)

I grew up in a town called Hamden in southern Connecticut and I lived in a neighborhood which consisted mainly of Italians. Our town and the surrounding area enjoyed the best pizza places and Italian bakeries, owned and operated by many Italian immigrants and their families. It seemed that everyone had names like Proscino, Velardi, Fiondella, and Cappucci - and that was just my mother's side of the family. In fact, as a youngster, I thought everyone in the whole world was Italian, because that was the world in which I lived.