Several years ago, while I sat at my desk one morning at Continuum, an AIDS agency in San Francisco where I served as executive director, the phone rang. The caller identified herself as a secretary to the First Lady and asked if I would come to the White House for a community leaders’ forum l
When I was little, Saturday nights were often spent sleeping over at Grandmom’s house. I loved these Saturday nights; she was the perfect grandmom, bubbly and doting and willing to spoil us with Lucky Charms cereal until we were sick. She was also a devout Roman Catholic, so Sunday mornings al
It came as a surprise to find myself compelled to reflect on consciousness and mortality. It happened because I went to a Zen retreat by accident. But then, though there are surprises in this life, we may collaborate in bringing ourselves to the place of surprise—to the brink, or to the unders
A reading from the letter of Paul to... began the lector; but instead of following St. Paul’s epistle, I opened the parish bulletin and read, once again, a mother’s letter of gratitude to her fellow parishioners and the outreach program they support. The woman was not a single mom, but a
The voice startled me. I was driving down a busy street in Atlanta on my way to the grocery store, when a little voice told me to visit the ornate church on the hill. I had attended a festival at the church, St. John Chrysostom Melkite Church, many years ago. I knew the congregation was Catholic, bu
Two years ago, while plunging into the final stage of studies for Jesuit priesthood, I was diagnosed with recurrent leukemia. My first thought was: why didn’t I enter the Dominicans or Franciscans where I could have finished formation years ago? The correct response is that no one finishes for