James Derkits

 It is no accident that we celebrate Christmas on the heels of the winter solstice. You have already probably noticed the daylight hours growing shorter, and the nights growing longer as we make our annual journey around the sun on our tilted earth axis. Or, maybe you have not noticed. We modern people spend a lot of time in artificial environments that make it possible to forget it is dark outside as we go about life with the lights on inside. Our ancestors, of course, didn't have that luxury; they have handed down a tradition that can help us to notice the seasonal changes of daylight hours. The Advent Wreath is a simple circle of greens with four candles set in the wreath. On the first Sunday of December, Christians around the world will light the first candle on the wreath to mark the first week of Advent. Each week another candle is lit until December 23, when the final candle is lit and we have almost arrived at Christmas to celebrate the coming of Christ, our light, into t

I have so many memories from canoeing on the San Marcos River that I have concentrate to separate them into different trips. They sort of get clumped together in a big refreshing, green, sunny memory. I remember catching bass on a fly for the first time, and I remember trying to paddle in the dark of night with a headlamp on (I say "trying" because there were a ton of insects attracted to that light...) I remember breaking a paddle, determined to dislodge some debris so we could drift through. I was able to splint the paddle with sticks and rope, and it worked. My very favorite trips, though, always involved taking people on the San Marcos for the first time. I've always had a love of nature and I value spending time in nature as sacred. That, coupled with learning river processes in geology and geography classes, and I can get pretty geeked out to introduce someone to experience of paddling the San Marcos. I enjoy paying attention to a person's curiosity and encourag

I was driving west on I 10 last weekend and started noticing, along the highway, the huge four legged bases for the new power line that is going in out that way. I had heard about it already, but I didn't realize it was under construction. First these bases were on their side, next to the cement anchors. Then as I drove along they were set up and attached. Further along, I got to see each stage of the process: the towers placed next to the base, then they were on the base, then pulleys were piled along-side, then the pulleys were hung, then I saw the spools of the gigantic wires, and finally, when I reached my destination, I saw the wire strung through the pulleys. They hung loosely there, and stretched out to the horizon as I turned off the highway. I never really thought much about how those power lines, which I've always called "high lines," were constructed. Of course it has to take many, many steps to carry the electricity from its source of origin to the des

 I hope that by writing this, I'll learn more about how Trinity by the Sea arrived at our logo--I haven't asked many people about it.  For now, I just want to reflect a bit on it. It's not an original image ; it is ancient and powerful one. It is inherited or adopted and it is appropriate for this church.  I like the logo at first glance, just because it is so unusual. A friend, who is also a priest, was visiting and was commenting on the Trinity-Fish symbol, and how many Episcopal Churches are named for the Trinity. He said, "It's cool that we use the name 'Trinity,' because it says up front that we embrace the mystery." That may be why I like the logo-symbol so much. It's an impossible image. There can't be a single-eyed-single-headed-three-tailed fish. And yet, there it is. It invites deeper consideration, and it points to something beyond itself. There is a tradition in Christianity called apophatic theology that proposes human categori