The Beloved Community is not a utopian ideal.
Hildegard von Chicken, with Mexican blanket.
With a warm hen under my arm, I remembered Jesus' plea over another empire-ridden city.
A ninth-century mosaic of women leaders in the church of St. Praessede, Rome.
Women still are forced to operate as second-class citizens in the church.
Remembering Ada María Isasi-Díaz
As the human soul matures, we are confronted with moments that force us to let go of yet another thin veil of self-delusion. The "right road," the moral high ground, sinks into a thicket of gray.
What does God's "settlement" look like?
The bigger the financial corporation, the quicker your dollar exits your community.
When, as is true today, the richest 10 percent own 85 percent of the world’s wealth and the poorest 50 percent live off the crumbs of 1 percent of the total global wealth, you’ve created a market where slavery will thrive.
No one could stop Troy Davis' execution -- despite his apparent innocence.
My "life plan" -- at age 23 -- was to own little and to move where the Spirit led.
Who is the woman at the well?
Addiction is not an individual disease; it's a family sickness.
Last week the body of a young woman was found near my house. She was 17 years old. She'd been murdered. The garbage men reported finding her in a supercan in the alley.
It's often good to have a donkey with you when you pray. They provide a natural antidote to excessive piety. Take my recent retreat day at the Jonah House Catholic Worker community in Baltimore.
"For God so loved the world ..." Lately John 3:16 won't leave me alone. It hovers above my shoulder as I read The Washington Post. Really, God? You love this world?
The nice vendor who sells aromatic oils in front of Speedy Liquor on 14th Street got stabbed the other day. Word on the street is he “got sliced with a machete.”
There are two principles that have stood face to face from the beginning of time, and will ever continue to struggle, declared Abraham Lincoln in 1858: “the common right of humanity and the d
Sister Linda Fuselier was my first-grade teacher. It was 1969 at St. Ignatius Catholic School in Sacramento, California.
In July, Pope Benedict wrote you a love letter. Like all love letters, it’s worth savoring.