On Sunday, after a tragic week of race-related killings in Dallas, Minneapolis, and Baton Rouge, I took a seat in my white evangelical middle-class megachurch in central Pennsylvania. I didn’t know what to expect, but as the sermon began I found myself pleasantly surprised. My pastor used his scheduled sermon on the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25–37) to address the issue of race in America.
Life of Faith
Benin. Some rights reserved by Ferdinand Reus.
My ecclesiastical criminality has been going on for 45 years. It all started at a Trappist abbey in Virginia.
The physical reality of her son, the very tangible way that he is a part of her, will not go away. He is with her everywhere she goes.
I used to lead activities like the "Privilege Walk" and "Cross the Line." I couldn't shake the feeling that they were not taking us very far.
Part history and part memoir, this volume gently immerses readers in Jewish traditions surrounding death.
"Look at the birds of the air," said Jesus. Our lives are more akin to the frantic scurrying of rats and the disciplined marching of ants.
My friend the public defense attorney doesn't teach her clients to evade error. She helps them acknowledge it—and stop pretending.
The prayers of the people call us. When we answer, we invite the possibility that it is we who will be poor, hungry, sick, and in prison.
This slim volume of poetry gives voice to the women of the Bible, named and unnamed.
In the midst of a procession of well-known stories is an image marking what's been forgotten. That's most of history, isn't it?