My two friends have been searching for a long time. They need a place to worship. He was brought up in a rigid Baptist tradition; she was brought up in a rigid Catholic tradition. I am not reporting on their search, because, after all, it is theirs. While I can identify with their search in many way
Faith in Focus
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On Being Gentle and Firm
About once a month here in Rome, I go to St. Peter’s and enter when the doors open at 7 a.m. It is awesome to gaze at the huge, empty basilica as the morning light filters through the windows. Lately I have found myself immediately drawn to the altar of Pope John XXIII, where an older Italian
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Portraying Dorothy Day
Portraying Dorothy Day on a stage would seem a challenge of formidable proportions in and of itself. But to do those portrayals in a series of makeshift settings, church sanctuaries and communal dining rooms—as well as on actual stages—raises the stakes of such a challenge. Sarah Melici
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Tyler the Tightwad
He saves, he hoards, he gloats over his cache of candy: my grandson, Tyler the Tightwad. He’s never heard of Silas Marner or Shylock or any of those other renowned literary misers, being barely four years old. Nor is he ungenerous in any other direction. In this case, however, he truly is a sk
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St. Joseph: a patron saint for all overlooked workers
It is easy to overlook Joseph, much as we overlook those millions of men and women who do their work quietly and well, without the least fanfare.
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Offer It Up? Right!
Whenever I hear someone say, “Offer it up,” I remember Sally. Sally had a fondness for sweets, but they weren’t good for her. Every time she spied me sneaking a cookie or candy bar, she would stare intently at me, hoping I would feel guilty and share. “Offer it up,” I w
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A Fly on the Wall at America
Last year, three times per week, I would stumble out of the 59th Street subway station in midtown Manhattan, stupefied by the competing traffic jam of landmarks. Trump Tower shot up from my left as Christopher Columbus balanced himself on my right, claiming dominion over his stone pillar and the int
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Friendship Is a Prayer
Should I feel guilty? The question nagged at me—a good Catholic question, pecking at my conscience as I sat under a shaggy tree on the grounds of a great monastery and listened to the bell as it tolled. It was time to pray. I should have been heading to the church. Others on retreat would be i
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Sweet’ Sacramental Moments
I am in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of fig cake, and as I sort through the handwritten recipes in my collection, I recall the two grandmothers who were related to me not by blood but by love. In 1988 my husband, his sister and I traveled to Brandon, Miss., to visit their grandmother, Sadie, who
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The Marriage Promise
I rise at 4:30 every morning to get a jump on a 70-mile drive to work. To keep some semblance of order, I try to do the same thing every day at the same time. It starts with getting out of bed, making the coffee and heading outside to pick up the morning newspaper. It is always dark, and I am carefu