is a vocational deacon at Christ Anglican Church, New Brighton, Pennsylvania.  She teaches Biblical Languages to high school students at Veritas Scholars’ Academy and serves as an adjunct instructor for Trinity School for Ministry. Tara and her husband have two teenagers and one adult son.


Read Love First

  When he was in high school, my eldest son was assigned Jonathan Edwards’s famous sermon “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.” He was to compare it with a sermon of his own choosing—one his deeply Calvinist teacher might expect him to find wanting in light of the...
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A Patina of Prayer

After a meeting of local clergy leaders hosted by our parish (on the lawn, due to Covid restrictions), one of the pastors mentioned that he had never been inside our church. Knowing that most clergy enjoy snooping around places of worship, I offered him a brief tour of our...
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Walking Away

  When my second son was born, the nurse did not proclaim “It’s a boy!” as one would expect. Instead her words were “Looks like you got a redhead.” Indeed, he was pink from tip to tail with a shock of red hair that stood up like a sail, or, in my imagination, like Woody...
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What’s in a Name?

Sure, we tolerate the immigrant and the minority, but do we accept them for who they are, with their curly hair, broken English, strange foods, and cultural habits? Or do we complain that they’re too loud, too intimidating, too distracting, or simply exotic?
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Unfinished Writing

  Spring, 2019: I started off the day with a rather reluctant middle-school Sunday School class. The hour was early for them, and they had not yet fully realized their daily resurrection from the dead. At some point, in a moment of attitude (adult version, I can be almost as...
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Singing in the Darkness

  “Rejoice now, heavenly hosts and choirs of angels, and let your trumpets shout salvation for the victory of our mighty king . . .” These are the opening words of the Exsultet, the chant sung by the deacon at the Great Vigil of Easter invoking all powers and creatures to...
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Hollow Footsteps

There had been a notable uptick in anti-Semitic attacks in Europe. Alone on a lonely street in the heart of Paris, I wondered if just standing where I was could make me a target of either suspicion or of hate. The door to the Holocaust Memorial was locked, as only three or four...
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Spina Bifida: Where Some Have Led the Way

  “The baby won’t live to be fourteen.” Our grandmother would announce her skepticism about my cousin’s life expectancy as easily as she would announce that the weatherman had predicted rain. Of course, there was nothing magic about the age of fourteen—every anticipated...
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Of Soap and Water

  I briefly wondered who had taught him the English words “soap” and “five.” He couldn’t have been more than ten years old, standing out on the sidewalk in 90-degree heat with his satchel full of soap and a smile that radiated to his eyes. “Soap? Five shekel.” Our guide...
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Letting Weeping Spend the Night

  It was the twenty-third of May, and I found myself face to face with a small, sticky-sweet-looking red velvet cake. I may have considered the purchase for a few moments; cake isn’t healthy after all. In the end, though, I brought it home, and we had it for dessert. My...
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