time

The future is scary: we simply don’t know, and it flies toward us anyway.

Gillian Adler and Paul Strohm explore the medieval preoccupation with time.

Jenny Odell argues that we need to get back in touch with our preindustrial sense of time.

John Haught dismantles the impoverished reasoning of most contemporary cosmology.

It’s hard to let go of what we once had.

The philosopher diagnoses the temporal tone deafness of Christians, our inability to attend to time.

Where there is a rending, there is a healing not far behind.

The latest film seems to have forgotten one of the delights of dinosaur nerdery: imagining the world without humans.

The German sociologist’s theory of “resonance” offers an alternative: deceleration.

Time ignores our every attempt to harness it.

Some things are worth keeping precisely because they will soon turn to dust.

I find that the book which most fascinates me is the Gospel of John.

Three times a year, a worship service ends and I go back to the vesting room to change—and I feel as though I'm walking into a time warp.

In a recent interview, Diane Keaton told the story of when she first decided to adopt a child. She was driving her father home from the hospital to die.

I was emphasizing to parents of confirmands that the young people should be with their families in worship as part of their preparation for membership. “I’m afraid we don’t have time for worship,” one mother told me after the meeting. Her words were soothing and gentle, yet they sounded condescending, as if she were explaining something to a not-very-bright child. “We’ve committed to soccer and cheerleading for my youngest on Sunday mornings. We have a full plate."