Deo gratias. That’s what the sign in my office says. It’s not fancy, just two words laser-printed on office paper and tacked up over the computer monitor so I can read it dozens of times a day. The phrase—which means “Thanks be to God”—is the traditional Benedictine greeting that monks offer visitors.
The answer that comes out of a tornado is not the kind of answer we want—or at least not one that responds to our agonized questions.
When I cling to anxieties or resentments, my whole body is like a clenched fist. Contemplative prayer requires unclenching it.
I see the monastery sign and drive past. I know two monks there, and I've been grabbing at every possible lead. But I'm too ashamed to turn in.
How did evangelicals develop their belief in an invisible God? T. M. Luhrmann argues that they created a space in their imagination.
It turns out Louie Giglio won’t be giving the benediction at Obama’s second inauguration. Who will? Jack Jenkins is right: Minerva Carcaño, Otis Moss, Gary Hall and Brian McLaren are all fine options. Joanna Brooks is right, too: so are Pratima Dharm, Sharon Braus, Sanaa Nadim, Anapesi Kali and Valarie Kaur. Ed Kilgore suggests his own pastor, who’s related to Ron and Rand Paul. Sounds okay, too.
I work remotely, out of my home office. As such I am dependent on the smooth and ready operation of computer equipment. Recently I encountered some hitches.
Prayer is not a violation of the laws of nature. It's woven into God's ongoing act of creation, as fully as the tides.
Sister Carol Bernice told me once that when she milks the cows she whispers "Yah-weh" as she alternates hands milking the teats.
“Silence gives me freedom in both real time and psychic time. When I talk less, I see more. And silence gives me time to pray.”