Welcome to CBE’s Library

Tip: to find an exact phrase or title, enclose it in quotation marks.

Fair lady with the alabaster flask,
How I wish I were there
To smell that fragrance in the air
All through the house.
And what a cost! A year’s wages!
I would not forget that wonderful smell.
And who could forget what you did?
Many saw you.
Many knew you.
Many smelled your precious perfume.
Fair lady, I wish I had been there.

KEEP READING

The tears of those who love us

gently water the cheeks of the earth.

Another beautiful bloom

turns into a wrinkled seed,

they lament.

Ah, a premature death,

A premature life,

Why must it be so?

KEEP READING
image

There seems to be a game – that you must play, if you would rise.

There seems to be a game – and with it lots of compromise

You live to impress others, and you're as slick as you can be.

But, where – oh, where – are perfect hearts, and deep sincerity? 

KEEP READING

Fall fountains of sun brimming
Bronze leaves burning
In summer’s dying light
 

KEEP READING

they have come
like warriors
an army
blackening the land

KEEP READING
image

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, I came to the tomb. I came alone in that time before dawn, when fear and doubt get the best of us, and when God seems farthest away. I came to make closure, like so many of us have had to do in our lives. I came to say goodbye and to let go. 

KEEP READING
image

It is rare to encounter people in the United States who understand what I do. “You’re an anthropologist?” They say. “How interesting! Is that like Indiana Jones or more like Jurassic Park?”

I exaggerate (a bit), but anthropology is not a widely understood discipline in this country. I would also say, based on my highly unscientific study, that it is even less understood in the church. Anthropology’s traditional anti-missionary bias, combined with a general distrust of “-ologies” of various sorts, has led anthropology to be a weak voice in U.S. Christianity.

KEEP READING
image

You look my way, but don’t see me.
Looking through me, past me,
I am not present in your eyes.
I am not seen, I am not heard.
Yet God says to me, “I love you, my child.
You are my daughter, lovingly created in my image.”

KEEP READING
image

Of all the literature produced by the early Syrian church, the most prized was composed by Ephrem the Syrian, often called “The Harp of the Holy Spirit.” One of his hymns memorializes the faith of the Samaritan woman whom Jesus met at the well and sent forth as a missionary (see John 4).

KEEP READING
image

Amnesia regarding social, cultural and political movements is fashionable, in part, because patriarchs would

rather not acknowledge how the shape of the world changed.

KEEP READING