If you went in search of God, where would you look? The great cathedrals of Europe, perhaps the basilicas of Rome? Would you seek out the famous holy men and women of our generation, or monks and cloistered nuns who have spent long years on such a quest? Would you read the ancient wisdom texts and sacred scriptures of our religion, or every religion?

Parents can be forgiven for imagining they “possess” their children, at least in the early years. After all, this little person arrives as a 24/7 obligation of vigilance and sustenance whose survival is entirely dependent on Mom and Dad.

During the holidays, some of us will be traveling again—perhaps after a long time away from an airport. The rest of us may well be waiting on the other end for travelers to arrive. One thing you learn quickly in airports, on either side of the process, is that planes are often late.

The Third Sunday of Advent is here, and once more in liturgical time we are invited to rejoice, on cue. Everywhere you look, the landscape is decorated with lights and festive symbols of mirth, even faith.

My father was very particular about the way in which he shoveled snow off our sidewalks during the long Pennsylvania winters. My preferred method was also the quickest: push the snow to either side and clear enough space for the average-sized human body to pass through. If a patch of snow stuck here and there, so be it.

Years ago, I attended an Advent retreat in which the retreat leader challenged us to consider what it is we are waiting for in this season. “The most disastrous answer you can give is nothing!” he declared. I blinked at the vehemence with which he made this pronouncement.

The Bible, we declare, is the word of God: inspired and inerrant, eternal, holy, and true. But it’s also an ancient document dependent on the testimony of human beings, coming to us through centuries of oral tradition and manuscript transmission.

There are certain lessons you stand to learn when you head out into nature. “Don’t touch the ivy, the oak, or the sumac” is one. Or, depending on your neck of the woods, “Don’t back into the cactus.” You can learn such lessons by accepting the wisdom of others who know this stretch of land better than you do, or you can opt for rueful personal experience.

What's the value of two pieces of grapefruit? If you've been to the supermarket lately, you might be able to come up with the cost. Because it's the off-season for citrus, you'll probably pay a bit more—and not necessarily like what you get. But if you aren’t concerned about the price of fruit, then you probably have enough money in your pocket not to care about the price of things at all.

There seems to be some confusion about the meaning of the love command. A television series years ago defined “big love” as a plural marriage: one husband, a bevy of wives. The title suggested that a man with several wives must have more love to give than the usual variety of husband.