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Roger Karban

Ordained in Rome in 1964, Roger R. Karban is a priest of the Diocese of Belleville with scholarly expertise in the Sacred Scriptures. He received a Licentiate in Theology from the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome and did his doctoral studies in Scripture at St. Louis University.

Karban has been the chair of religion departments at Mater Dei and Gibault Catholic High Schools; director of the diocesan diaconate program and is currently the administrator of Our Lady of Good Council Parish, Renault, IL. A part-time faculty member of St. Louis University and Southwestern Illinois College where he teaches the Bible as literature, Karban also teaches adult weekly scripture classes in Belleville, Breese, Carbondale and Lebanon, IL. With the vision of Vatican II, Karban presents workshops, not only in the diocese, but throughout the country.



Roger's Essays

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Isaiah 60:1-6; Ephesians 3:2-3a, 5-6; Matthew 2:1-12

“We Three Kings” certainly isn’t an appropriate hymn for the feast of the Epiphany. If Scripture scholars had their way every “kingly” crib statue would be ceremoniously smashed during today’s liturgy – immediately before the homily.

Why do we encourage such a violent ritual? Because the idea of royalty visiting Joseph and Mary’s Bethlehem home completely turns the evangelist’s message upside down.

Matthew’s well-known narrative commemorates a visit not of kings, but of despised people. The confusion happened when the original Greek text was transliterated into Latin; the word magoi became magi. The Greek magoi refers to sorcerers or magicians; the Latin magi signifies kings or high potentates.

Counter to us Latin-rite folk, Greek speaking Christians always kept the gospel’s original meaning. For instance, the famous mid-6th century Byzantine mosaic of the three Bethlehem visitors in the basilica of St. Apollinaris in Ravenna depicts the trio wearing magician outfits not royal robes.

Once we transform sorcerers into kings, Matthew’s theology goes down the biblical tube. The evangelist includes this narrative in his Jewish/Christian gospel to point out that the most unlikely people, using the most unlikely means, can often surface Jesus in their lives more quickly than likely people following likely means.

According to Exodus 22:17, sorcerers are to be killed on sight. Among other abominations, they follow stars and heavenly bodies to surface God’s will in their lives. Nothing could be further from biblical faith. (Though few have noticed, the 1940 Academy Award winning song - and Disney mainstay - When You Wish Upon a Star is roundly condemned in the Hebrew Scriptures.) Yet these pagan magicians eventually find Jesus while Herod, the Jew, refuses to even go down to Bethlehem. God obviously works in strange ways.

Though Third-Isaiah reflects, in our first reading, on non-Jews one day becoming Jews, he never goes as far as Paul’s conviction that Gentiles as Gentiles can become Christians. That unexpected discovery certainly makes the faith of Jesus an exciting experience for the Apostle. As he tells the Ephesians, “. . . Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body, and co-partners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.” In other words, “No one can predict how God’s going to work in our lives.”

That conviction was one of the original insights fueling the restoration of the catechumenate. Most of us remember the old days when possible new members simply went to a series of “convert classes.” After a couple months of having the priest fill their minds with Catholic teachings, the students took a simple true/false exam, easily passed, and were welcomed into the church either by baptism or profession of faith.

The restored catechumenate, on the other hand, begins not with the candidates receiving gobs of new information, but by encouraging them to reflect on what has already happened in their lives to bring them to this point. The presupposition is that God’s been working with and in them long before they and their sponsor walk into the parish hall. Following Matthew’s magoi theology, no two discovery stories are the same.

I once read an article explaining why John Henry Newman’s canonization was taking such a long time. One of the reasons for the delay came from the Vatican commission’s refusal to include anything in the process that had happened to Newman before his admission into the Catholic Church. Obviously the powers that be were convinced God began working in the life of the author of “Lead, Kindly Light” only 12 years after he penned those famous lyrics, in 1845 when he became a Catholic.

Perhaps we should create a Scripture service to be used immediately before the first catechumenate or canonization session begins, consisting just of today’s gospel reading.


This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois,
Email:, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222



I Samuel 3b-10, 19; I Corinthians 6:13c-15a, 17-20; John 1:35-42

Nothing creates more interest for Scripture’s original readers than the “call narratives” many of our sacred authors include in their writings. When Yahweh or the gospel Jesus asks someone to be a disciple, everyone listens carefully to the details. Their interest isn’t hard to understand. Those original readers feel called in a similar way. Though times and circumstances differ, several elements are always the same.

First, the divine caller usually demands the person who is called “move.” Neither Jesus nor Yahweh says, “Stay there! Don’t move a muscle! Just keep doing what you’re doing!” Movement is always entailed, either physical or psychological or both. No one responds to such a call without experiencing change.

Second, the individual who’s called is expected to follow not some intellectual ideals or principles, but a real person. When we deal with any person, there’s always something new to learn about him or her. Nothing stays the same. Those not open to the person aren’t open to the call.

Third, whoever is called is now expected to put his or her security in the person doing the calling. Whatever or whoever they consistently fell back on before they now push into the background. They trust only Yahweh or Jesus. Their personal strength shifts from former places, people and ideas to someone completely “other.”

Samuel discovers in today’s first reading, when God calls there’s no hesitation, no thinking it over. Eli correctly instructs the boy, “. . . If you are called, reply, ‘Speak, Yahweh, for your servant is listening.’” In a very deep sense, if he’s not already listening for a call, he’ll probably pull a “Sgt. Schultz” and hear nothing even though the call is coming loud and clear. Eli and Samuel’s misunderstanding tells us we can easily mistake the actual caller for someone else. We’d better know whom and what to listen for, else we’ll think it’s just a figment of our imagination; something we can slough off at will.

The call might even come through someone with whom we’re already familiar but are now looking at from a different perspective. That seems to be what happens in today’s gospel pericope. Along with Andrew and Simon, Jesus already appears to be one of the Baptizer’s followers when John points to him and says, “Behold, the Lamb of God.”

Now because of John’s leadership and authority, whatever this Galilean carpenter says and does takes on a deeper meaning. When he, for instance, asks, “What are you looking for?” he’s referring not just to an immediate need; in this context, he’s asking the pair, “What do you want out of life?”

The two eventually discover Jesus’ “Come” is an invitation to become a new person. He calls them to go beyond their here and now and uncover a part of themselves they’ve never before noticed. That’s why he quickly changes Simon’s name to “Rock.” Those who respond to God’s call not only uncover more and more about God, they also uncover more and more about themselves.

That’s exactly what happened when Paul responded to the risen Jesus’ call on the Damascus Road. He not only discovered the Christ was present in those he was persecuting, he also discovered he/she was also present in him. No longer did he, as a good Jew, have to regularly visit the Jerusalem temple. Once he answers Christ’s call and moves to a new frame of mind, he discovers his own body “. . . is a temple of the Holy Spirit . . . .” What he thought outside himself is actually inside himself.

Hard to convince someone of such a wonder who’s never said “Yes!” to the risen Jesus. But, on the other hand . . . .


This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois,
Email:, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222



Jonah 3:1-5, 10; I Corinthians 7:29-31; Mark 1:14-20

We spend so much time arguing about whether a person can live in the belly of a whale for three days and three nights that we actually forget why the author of Jonah originally wrote his well-known book. Scholars for a long time have concluded these small three chapters aren’t to be taken literally. People read and saved them not because of their biological marvels, but because of their theological message. I often tell my students since the demise of Monty Python the only group who can do justice to Jonah is the Saturday Night Live crew. Yet even though the writer chose to convey his theology through classic sarcasm, his message is one of the most biting in all of Scripture.

It, like today’s other two readings, revolves around conversion. How does one get from point A to point B, not geographically but psychologically? Our sacred authors presume only those who continually move from one point to another have true biblical faith. The rest are just treading water.

Biblical faith is constantly moving; it never stops growing and evolving. Unlike the catechism faith many of us grew up with, it isn’t a static experience; a specific amount of dogmas and teachings we’re to memorize and eventually “believe in.” The only movement I can remember back then consisted in each catechism we studied containing more pages than the prior one. My faith grew because my catechism grew. Yet no matter how much I studied, it didn’t lead to conversion. Though I knew more, I still stayed in the same basic place.

In many ways we’re looking in a mirror when we hear about Jonah. Everyone in the book goes through a change – the sailors, Ninevites, animals, even Yahweh – except Jonah. He insists on maintaining the same frame of mind until the non-bitter end. Jonah’s author directs his book to the “unchangeable believers” among us.

It’s important to note that Yahweh doesn’t send the prophet to these notorious Ninevite sinners with a message of repentance. On the contrary, it’s a message of doom: “Forty days more and Nineveh shall be destroyed!” But after Jonah proclaims it, the unexpected happens. Not only do they repent, their sudden turnabout forces Yahweh to repent.

Of course Yahweh’s behavior creates huge problems for us “Greek-thinking” people. How can God go back on God’s word and still be God? The great Hans Walter Wolff once answered that question with one of the deepest biblical insights I’ve ever encountered: “God doesn’t have to be faithful to God’s word,” the famous Scripture scholar said, “as long as God’s faithful to God’s people.” In other words, when God’s people repent, God repents.

The gospel Jesus learned that lesson well. He makes constant conversion a condition for carrying on his ministry. This itinerant preacher’s basic “stump speech” is simple: To experience the “kingdom of God” – God working effectively in one’s life – one must “repent,” pull off a 180-degree switch in her or his value system. What once was on the outskirts of one’s dos and don’ts is now front and center, and vice versa. He’s a demanding leader. Those who can’t (or won’t) change day by day can’t experience God day by day.

That change is certainly behind Jesus’ promise to his first four followers, “I will make you fishers of people.” He’s giving them a brand new focus in their lives, opening a door they never knew existed.

Probably few of us will experience the five-fold turnabout Paul speaks of in today’s I Corinthians passage. To say the least, that’s a little drastic. But the possibility is there for everyone. Who knows what will happen when we agree to convert?

There’s no “off button” on that machine.


This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois,
Email:, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222



Deuteronomy 18:15-20; I Corinthians 7:32-35; Mark 1:21-28

The first miracle Jesus works in each gospel is very significant. The evangelist deliberately chooses it not only to set the tone for his whole gospel, but to especially tell us what we, as other Christs, should be doing to imitate the person whose ministry we’re carrying on. That’s certainly the case with today’s Marcan pericope.

There’s more to Jesus exorcising a demoniac than might appear at first glance. Jesus’ earthly contemporaries thought demons were the source of more than just moral evils. Besides sins, they caused all sorts of sicknesses and other physical and psychological evils. If it’s bad, a demon must somehow be behind it.

No telling exactly what kind of demon possessed the man in the Capernaum synagogue on that fateful Saturday. But it was sharp enough to realize that Jesus of Nazareth was intent on “destroying us” one demon at a time. In other words, Mark’s Jesus conceived of his ministry as a force to eradicate evil.

That means we who follow him and are committed to carrying on his work are expected to buy into his dream. Before anything else, we, like him, should be destroyers of evil, no matter how or where we encounter it. We need only read the rest of Mark’s gospel to see how he accomplishes this step by step, until at the end he completely gives himself and eventually comes back as a totally new creation.

The problem in getting rid of evil is two-fold. How do we know what evil to attack, and how do we eradicate it? Today’s first reading supplies us with the first answer: prophets.

Our biblical authors presume a person of faith can’t get by without prophets in his or her life. They’re the community’s conscience. That’s why Yahweh’s people panic when Moses – the prophet par excellence – is about to die. How will they continue to know what Yahweh wants them to do?

Though some interpret Yahweh’s promise to raise up another “prophet like (Moses) from among their kin” as applying to just one special, specific prophet, the original readers of Deuteronomy seem to have interpreted the promise as Yahweh’s guarantee that there will always be other prophets in their lives. God won’t let them fly blind.

Not being biblically oriented, many of us believe Jesus simply set up an institution – the Roman Catholic Church – which tells us through its infallible decrees what God wants of us, pointing out which evils to exterminate. Certainly we should expect the church to be prophetic, but what happens when the evil we encounter actually comes from the church? The late Carroll Stuhlmueller often mentioned that throughout history the community’s prophets have rarely been members of the hierarchical structure. It’s possible a pope or bishop could be a prophet – e.g. Pope Francis – but prophecy usually isn’t one of their gifts. Carroll was convinced the prophets God sends are almost always “outsiders.” That’s why it’s essential to know the classic five (or six) rules for separating real prophets from fake prophets. (Another day, another commentary.)

Though the institution rarely is prophetic, it does have a role. After prophets surface the evils to be destroyed, institutional administrators should point out the practical ways to eradicate them. Carroll was convinced prophets make lousy administrators. When put in administrative positions, prophets will quickly frustrate everyone around them. That’s not their gift.

Paul, for instance, in today’s second reading, prophetically points out that the risen Jesus wants us free from anxieties. Most Christians today, though, wouldn’t agree with his “celibacy conclusion” as a way to accomplish such tranquility. It might have made sense when the Parousia was thought to be just around the corner, but 2,000 years later . . . .

We need both prophets and administrators.


This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois,
Email:, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222



Job 7:1-4, 6-7; I Corinthians 9:16-19, 22-23; Mark 1:29-39

Biblical fundamentalists have a huge problem when they hear one biblical author disagree with another biblical author. Among other places, that happens both in the bible’s “wisdom debate,” and in today’s three liturgical readings.

The sacred writers who composed our “wisdom literature” – e.g. Proverbs, Sirach, Song of Songs, Job, Wisdom, etc. – clash theologically on the most basic question of wisdom: can we surface patterns of God’s behavior or not? The author of Proverbs says, “Yes.” We need simply look around us and we’ll see God’s patterns in ourselves and nature. On the other hand, the author of Job says, “No.” No matter how carefully we look, we can never find God working logically in our lives.

Today’s passage from Job shows at least one result for searching for a God we’ll never understand. There’s no method to God’s actions, nor a pattern to how God treats us. That means for many, life ends up being a “drudgery.” “My days,” Job reflects, “are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope.” There’s no doubt on which side of the cup “half/full, half/empty” dilemma Job comes down upon.

Yet at least on this point, our Christian sacred authors take their focus from God’s actions and zero in on ours. Today’s passages from Paul and Mark, for instance, tell us striving to be other Christs that we should never just sit back and grade God working in our lives. What are we doing in the meantime?

In both their theologies, the secret to having interesting, exciting lives is to practice “hesed.”

Hesed is a Hebrew biblical term for going beyond what’s expected of us. No one can fault us for doing only what’s necessary. Hesed, on the other hand, is a surprise; a total free action.

Paul, in our I Corinthians pericope, tells us he has “an obligation to preach the gospel.” He has no other choice. It’s how he preaches the good news that provides him with a “recompense” – in two ways. First, though he can expect at least room and board from those he evangelizes, he goes beyond their expectations, “offering the gospel free of charge,” an obvious act of hesed.

Second, nowhere does the risen Jesus insist Paul actually identify with those to whom he proclaims the gospel. Yet beyond everyone’s expectations, the Apostle makes himself “a slave to all so as to win over as many as possible. To the weak I became weak, to win over the weak. I have become all things to all . . . .” Unlike many of us priests and ministers, he becomes one with those to whom he ministers. He’s not just a preacher standing apart from his “audience.” Jesus amazes his disciples in today’s gospel passage. After his first day of ministry, they presume he’s returning to Capernaum and picking up where he left off the night before. In less than 24 hours, he’s become a local hero. Being members of his inner circle, they’ve already lined up TV and radio interviews and even contacted the local papers.

But he says, “Pack up! We’re leaving town!” He’s planning to travel to other villages and other synagogues, preaching the word to people who probably won’t be as open to the good news as those in Capernaum. As long as he stays put, he’s playing it safe.

No doubt on Good Friday evening those who were anxious to get him to return to town that morning muttered something to the effect, “He went one synagogue too far.”

Had Jesus gone no further than Capernaum, he eventually would have died peacefully in bed, his family and friends around him, but we would never have heard of him, or hesed.


This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois,
Email:, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222



Leviticus 13:1-2, 44-46; I Corinthians 10:31-11:1; Mark 1:40-45

Paul’s words to the Corinthians should ring throughout today’s liturgy: “. . . I try to please everyone in every way, not seeking my own benefit but that of the many . . .” As other Christs, our actions are geared to helping others, not doing things for our own advantage. Pope Francis says it well: “We should be building bridges, not walls.”

We live in a world in which we’re convinced walls help us personally much better than bridges. That’s especially true when it comes to those we fear. And as we hear in our Leviticus reading, no one in the ancient world was feared more than a leper.

Leprosy back then was defined as any destructive skin condition. Though people knew nothing of germs, they were convinced a demon of leprosy had taken control of the afflicted person, a demon which could jump from person to person if someone was foolish enough to get close to the leper. One’s life was altered forever if he or she was declared a leper. (Though the 50s movie Ben Hur wasn’t historical, most historians believe the Jerusalem village of lepers it depicted was fairly accurate--a hell on earth.) That’s why only a priest could officially proclaim someone leprous. No “anonymous” accusations. Consequences were devastating.

Mark composed today’s pericope against this background. Read it carefully. Not only does Jesus cure the leper and send him to the priests for verification, he breaks the Levitical regulations and actually “touches” him before he heals him.

Two other things about the passage. First, we’re still in chapter 1 of Mark. The evangelist continues to tell his readers what evils Jesus’ followers should be eradicating. Obviously the “outcasts” around us are one of those evils. In Jesus’ faith, no one was out; everyone was in. He expects his followers to constantly reach out, not cut off.

Second, the phrase “moved with pity” replaced the evangelist’s original phrase “moved with anger.” Textual critics tell us not only that the latter wording is found in the best Marcan manuscripts but that it’s easier to see how a scribe would change anger to pity than pity to anger. After all, we’re dealing with Jesus of Nazareth. The question is, “Why’s Jesus angry?”

He doesn’t seem to be angry with the leper; rather, according to most scholars, he’s uptight with a frame of mind which created an environment in which such people are officially walled off from everyone else. For me to succeed, some individuals must be permanently out of my life.

According to our sacred authors, both the historical and risen Jesus envision a different world, a place in which we demonstrate our belief in God being one with us by becoming one with all those around us, especially those whom society has barred from being part of “our world.”

As we know from Matthew 23, Jesus’ early followers pictured the church as the place where such unity should begin; a place where there’s no honorary titles to divide us or social status to separate us. But then . . . somebody created clergy and laity. We’ve never been the same since.

Don’t let anyone tell you not to be angry over what we’ve created of Jesus’ church. According to Mark, Jesus was frequently angry when he shared his vision with his followers. (Check the other five or six places in his gospel where he depicts an angry Jesus.) Some things are worth getting emotional about.

Walls only come down when we actually tear them down. They normally don’t fall down on their own. No wonder Mark places such a disturbing action at the beginning of his gospel. That’s where Jesus believes it belongs – at the start of his good news.


This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois,
Email:, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222



Genesis 9:8-15; I Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:12-15

Though today’s Genesis passage mentions the Bible’s first covenant, I’m afraid some of us Catholics don’t know the first thing about Scriptural covenants. We’ve heard the word and know it has something to do with “things” between us and God, but that’s about as far as we go.

Covenants are at the heart of both biblical theology and our liturgical practices. The reason, for instance, we take from the cup during the Eucharist revolves around a covenant Jesus presumes we’ve made with him. A covenant was also why the early church originally didn’t permit non-Jews to become Christians.

A covenant is basically an agreement, usually between two or more parties. (Although today’s covenant with Noah and his family is made solely by Yahweh.) It’s similar to contracts people enter into with one another. Each covenant has two main elements: the parties enter into it freely, and each accepts the responsibilities the agreement demands. Every semester, for instance, I sign a contract with the community college at which I teach. I agree to the terms the college sets forth for its employees – spend X number of hours in the classroom, regularly evaluate my students, and present my subject in a scholarly way. On the college’s part, it agrees to pay me the ultra-low wages adjunct professors earn at many such institutions.

The most frequently entered into covenant in our culture is marriage.

Knowing these basics about covenants, it’s significant the original Israelites go against the practices of their pagan neighbors and conceive of their unique relationship with Yahweh as a covenant agreement. God has responsibilities; they have responsibilities. They have certain things they can expect from Yahweh; Yahweh has certain things he/she can expect from them. Neither can treat the other at whim.

In the case of Noah and his family, Yahweh is bound by his responsibility never again to send “a flood to destroy all mortal beings.” And as most covenants have an outward sign to show the parties have entered into the agreement – a wedding ring in the case of marriage – Yahweh makes the rainbow the outward sign the earth won’t again have to worry about such a disaster.

There are various Yahweh/Israelite covenants throughout the Hebrew Scriptures. Abraham makes an initial one in Genesis 15, and later, Moses, in the name of all Israelites, enters into the most famous of all biblical covenants on Mt. Sinai.

The unknown author of I Peter understands that Jesus has modified those standard Jewish covenants to include dying and rising with him. If we fulfill our responsibility to die for others in the ways he died for others, he’s “obligated” to give us a share in the same life he achieved.

Mark’s Jesus, on the other hand, doesn’t seem too interested in that new life taking place only after our physical deaths. He’s concerned with the unique life Jesus offers us here and now. Scholars are convinced the “kingdom of God” Jesus wants his followers to join him in experiencing revolves around God being present and working effectively in our everyday lives. But in order to reach that point, we must also join him in “repenting:” in doing a 180-degree switch in our value system.

Most of us don’t realize we have a covenant responsibility to constantly change the way we look at people and situations around us. Such a readjustment of our values isn’t something we do for “extra credit;” it’s at the heart of our faith. Each of us agreed to that responsibility either at our baptism or when we first made a free choice of accepting the faith of Jesus.

One of these days we’ll explore the outward sign of Jesus’ covenant – receiving from the Eucharistic cup. Until then . . . .


This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois,
Email:, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

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Each archive file has two articles with the most recent at the bottom.

2018 Essays
February 11 & 18, 2018
January 28 & February 4, 2018
January 14 & 21, 2018

2017 Essays

December 31, 2017, & January 7, 2018
December 24 & 25, 2017
December 10 & 17, 2017
November 26 & December 3, 2017
November 12 & 19, 2017
October 29 & November 5, 2017
October 15 & 22, 2017
October 1 & 8, 2017
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May 21 & 25 or 28, 2017
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April 2 & 9, 2017
March 19 & 26, 2017
March 5 & 12, 2017
February 19 & 26, 2017
February 5 & 12, 2017
January 22 & 29, 2017
January 8 & 15, 2017

2016 Essays

December 25, 2016, & January 1, 2017
December 11 & 18, 2016
November 27 & December 4, 2016
November 13 & 20, 2016
October 30 & November 6, 2016
October 16 & 23, 2016
October 2 & 9, 2016
September 18 & 25, 2016
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March 27 and April 3, 2016
March 24 & 26, 2016
March 13 & 20, 2016
February 28 and March 6, 2016
February 14 and 21, 2016
January 31 and February 7, 2016
January 17 and 24, 2016
January 3 and 10, 2016

2015 Essays
December 25 and 27, 2015
December 13, 20 and 25, 2015
November 29 and December 6, 2015
November 15 and 22, 2015
November 1 and 8, 2015
October 18 and 25, 2015
October 4 and 11, 2015
September 20 and 27, 2015
September 6 and 13, 2015
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May 10 and May 14 or 17, 2015
April 26 and May 3, 2015
April 12 and 19, 2015
April 4 and 5, 2015
March 29 and April 2, 2015
March 15 and 22, 2015
March 1 and 8, 2015
February 15 and 22, 2015
February 1 and 8, 2015
January 18 and 25, 2015
January 4 and 11, 2015

2014 Essays
December 25 & 28, 2014
December 14 & 21, 2014
November 30 & December 7, 2014
November 16 & 23, 2014
November 2 and 9, 2014
October 19 & 26, 2014
October 5 & 12, 2014
September 21 & 28, 2014
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April 27 and May 4, 2014
April 19 & 20, 2014
April 13 & 17, 2014
March 30 & April 6, 2014
March 16 & 23, 2014
March 2 & 9, 2014
February 16 & 23, 2014
February 2 & 9, 2014
January 19 & 26, 2014
January 5 & 12, 2014

2013 Essays
December 25 & 29, 2013
December 15 & 22, 2013
December 1 & 8, 2013
November 17 & 24, 2013
November 3 & 10, 2013
October 20 and 27, 2013
October 6 and 13, 2013
September 22 and 29, 2013
September 8 and 15, 2013
August 25 and September 1, 2013
August 11 and 18, 2013
July 28 and August 4, 2013
July 14 and 21, 2013
June 30 and July 7, 2013
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May 19 & 26, 2013
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March 30 and April 7, 2013
March 24 and 28, 2013
March 10 and 17, 2013
February 24 and March 3, 2013
February 10 and 17, 2013
January 27 and February 3, 2013
January 13 and 20, 2013
December 30, 2012, and January 6, 2013

2012 Essays
December 23 & 25, 2012
December 9 & 16, 2012
November 25 and December 2, 2012
November 11 and 18, 2012
October 28 and November 4, 2012
October 14 and October 21, 2012
September 30 and October 7, 2012
September 16 and September 23, 2012
September 2 and September 9, 2012
August 19 and August 26, 2012
August 5 and August 12, 2012
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July 8 and July 15, 2012
June 24 and July 1, 2012
June 10 and 17, 2012
May 27 and June 3, 2012
May 17 and May 20, 2012
May 6 and May 13, 2012
April 22 and April 29, 2012
April 7 (Easter Vigil) and April 15, 2012
March 25 and April 1, 2012
March 11 and March 18, 2012
February 26 and March 4, 2012
February 12 and February 19, 2012
January 29 and February 5, 2012
January 15 and January 22, 2012
January 1 and January 8, 2012

2011 Essays
December 18 and December 25, 2011
December 4 and December 11, 2011
November 20 and November 27, 2011
November 6 and November 13, 2011
October 23 and October 30, 2011
October 9 and October 16, 2011
September 25 and October 2, 2011
September 18, 2011
September 4, 2011
August 21, 2011
August 07, 2011
July 24, 2011
July 10, 2011
June 26, 2011
June 12, 2011
June 6, 2011
May 22, 2011
May 5, 2011
April 10, 2011
May 8th, 2011
April 24, 2011
April 3, 2011
March 20, 2011
March 6, 2011
February 20, 2011
February 6, 2011
January 30, 2011
January 16, 2011
January 2, 2011

2010 Essays
December 25, 2010
December 10, 2010
November 28, 2010
November 14, 2010



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