A frigid morning, with northwesterly air gnawing its way down from Canada gave us the sort of pure, crisp daylight that had me out and about in Camden. Down at the harbor, I looked into town and up to the hills behind. It all struck me as a quintessential New England scene, with very few visual clues that this is contemporary, not a century or more ago. 

There’s nothing overtly theological about this image, but the whole issue of faith – as opposed to “religion” - is one that engages me and in my mind’s eye the masts and spars spoke directly to faith and to the seafaring history of the town, as well as to our immense and present good fortune in living here.