April 1984

Cover Story

We have seen the many faces of hope. It has met us along the way in a fascinating variety of sizes and colors.
God used Ntozake Shange to help me name the pain that I felt.
The clearest signs of hope in my life all have faces and names.
Last November I was in a place called Mogopa in the Western Transvaal.
Since I was detained as a prisoner of conscience, I have had moments of deep anguish.
Waiting for a bus one day near my home, I saw a man standing nearby.
In the disarmament movement, history is more than meets the eye.
We live in a society of unconfessed despair.
Vancouver, British Columbia, did not invent Skid Row.
Two weeks ago, I came to Nicaragua to spend six months with Witness for Peace.
The question I wrestle with is: do I live as a person of hope?
Striving to hold back the placement of Pershing and cruise missiles on Dutch soil.


The theological roots of whole-person health care.
The White Train did not pass unnoticed.
Meditations for liturgical seasons.


The ostentatiously "religious" nature of Reagan's re-election campaign has been a surprise.
The rain fell in steady streams. The forecast said rain through the night and into Easter morning.
In these difficult times, where do we find hope?


From my cluttered porch / I watch the storm move in ...