We gave our readers a one-word writing prompt: “Feet.”
Hope smells like barbecue.
Each year a Hindu priest asks my students to “worship our own, but respect all.” They find the second part easier.
How human isolation from the rest of the world keeps us from thriving.
The virtue of kindness depends on who we see as kin.
We say these words a lot. Lately I’ve noticed what it looks like when we follow through.
I preached a word of judgment. The stranger in the back row heard grace.
It’s hard to quit the college admissions game.
I knew Sunday worship wasn’t viable. But what about weekdays?
I was outraged. I wanted to burn it all down. I wanted to pray.
An incident in Germany reminded me who we all belong to.
I had to make room for conversations of thanks, forgiveness, love, and good-bye.
Dealing with our community’s real issues
When unremitting human sin is something I expect, I can face evil without despair.
The children here are gaunt and listless. They are running out of time.