Osler's Razor

Sorry for the late posting today, but it was a travel day, coming back from Tucson. Through a kind invitation from Hank Shea (pictured above in his current locale), I had the pleasure of giving three lectures at the University of Arizona-- one on commutations, one on the history of crack, and one on the tension between prosecutors and victim/witnesses. Then, earlier today, I got to speak to a room full of Episcopalians (and a couple of Catholics, too) at Grace/St. Paul church, on the topic of civil discourse. That invite came from Martha Whitaker, a friend from way way back.


Being in the desert always makes me think of Jesus. The terrain he walked (and they were always walking) was much more like Texas or Arizona than the lush, lake-dotted Minnesota that is my home. Walking in the desert, there is a sense of what it might be like to walk behind Jesus with the others, the dust rising beneath our feet, the landscape a winter palette of browns. There is a spareness and severity to the desert that insists on both attention to your surroundings and urges introspection-- how could one not ponder larger things, when the stars are so plentiful?