On Fridays in the church basement, I see glimpses of something precarious and beautiful.
Listening to the poorest and most dislocated, Susan J. Dunlap hears the music of faith.
In Tacoma, Minneapolis, and elsewhere, people without housing have taken over buildings.
How a group of interfaith partners is making use of their idle parking lots
I knew Sunday worship wasn’t viable. But what about weekdays?
"It feels vulnerable to be the weird lady outside preaching sermons."
Faced with someone trying to deny me shelter from the rain, I thought, are you kidding?
In a time of American inhospitality, Jan Holton offers a compelling vision.
What’s a miracle? How can we (frail human creatures that we are!) separate contingency—what’s possible but unpredictable, an event that seems unlikely or unintended—from miracle?
In The Lady in the Van, viewers see playwright Alan Bennett befriend a woman experiencing homelessness—and treat her as a human.
I grew up around art and a few artists. I looked to people who had a reverence for the world at large. A natural contemplative awareness developed, as in many children before it is covered over. Call it awe, which Abraham Heschel describes as an “intuition for the dignity of all things, a realization that things not only are what they are but also stand, however remotely, for something supreme.” No wonder I became both a photographer and an Episcopal deacon.
One day, a soup-kitchen guest named what was happening: church, a worshiping community distinct from the larger congregation.