All Posts By

Jeff Munroe

Essay

The Wall of Fame

As a result of Western Theological Seminary’s massive building project, I am one of many people now happily ensconced in a new office with new furniture. My set up includes a large tack board, and because I simply don’t want…
Essay

The Year of Living Buechnerly

Last June, I presented a seminar on Frederick Buechner at a writing conference. One of the attendees happened to be the head of a publishing house. One thing led to another, and by the fall I was under contract to…
Essay

The Blind Man and the Homeless Man

Please indulge me and accept yet another, “What I did on my summer vacation” post. Since today is Labor Day, it’s the end of summer and really the last chance to post something like this, and I have a story…
Essay

When the truth is found to be lies

In Sarah Arthur’s new book A Light So Lovely: The Spiritual Legacy of Madeleine L’Engle, she tells of a frequent interaction L’Engle’s daughter Josephine had with fans who had read L’Engle’s memoirs and felt they knew her family well. “You…
Essay

I Remember, Therefore I Am

Cogito ergo sum, Descartes famously said, but sometimes I think recordor ergo sum might be more accurate. “I remember, therefore I am.” I have a sense that everything–every person, place, event, moment–is locked in our brains somewhere, whether we are…
Essay

The President’s Book Club

By Jeff Munroe Stephen Harper, Prime Minister of Canada, 2006-2015 Yann Martel, author of Life of Pi, was troubled about a decade ago by the admission of then Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper that he didn’t read much. (Sound familiar?)…
Essay

Three, or Four, Gs

By Jeff Munroe “Why write a poem at a time like this?” a poet friend asks, and if you are like me, you intuitively feel the answer but cannot always articulate it. Makoto Fujimura’s new book Culture Care: Reconnecting with…
Essay

Stephen Paddock’s Missing Motive

by Jeff Munroe We want a motive, because we want the senseless shooting in Las Vegas last week to make sense. We want there to be some reason, however perverse, that those innocent people were massacred. But there isn’t a…