It can be lonely living by oneself in a small town, as I do.
The alarm went off at 3:30 a.m. on Guatemala’s presidential election day in December 2003.
On my desk is a photograph of a large poster that had been crudely taped to the wall of a bakery in an Arab souk just inside the Damascus Gate to the Old City of Jerusalem.
During the spring semester of 2000, I spent Thursdays with Karl Rahner. I was then a Jesuit seminarian, studying philosophy and theology at Fordham University.