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

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

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

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

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.

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