Today in honoring the saints, we recognize that they have built the church.

We love our definitions, our categories and our ability to transform most anything in the world into an equation.

If we, the people, are ourselves responsible for the good of the state, then we have the same obligations that a medieval monarch once had.

We the church ought to be a people marked by joy, like guests at a wedding feast.

Being human does not get any harder than when there is a rupture between meaning and love

Lots of people get crusty as they age. Only the saints get slippery.

The moment we begin to measure, we know nothing of love, know nothing of God.

Sin rips apart the soul. Draw your image as best you can.

We cannot be human, cannot be ourselves, without other human beings.

Jesus calls forth our loving gifts, though, apart from him, they can never rise to meet the lofty love of God.