Raspberries are a delicious and divine gift. To pick them is a task and a work as old as the earth. One doesn’t pick alone, usually in pairs, and commonly in a troop of many. The work, depending on the day, can go quickly or can become toil. But always the promise of the juicy, yet somewhat tart, treat remains. My surname translates into English as “raspberry”. I presume my forbears must have been raspberry pickers, crop farmers, land owners — and raspberry bushes defined their surroundings. I think and work alone with my ideas, reflections and musings. But the thoughts and ideas translate into preaching, teaching, and daily interaction with people. A social work it is, affirming the faithful, spiritual connection with what is common, holy, and supremely enjoyable! Connecting mind, body and spirit with hope and joy — this is the work of the raspberry man!