As part of that small number of parishioners able to take the Eucharist, I felt that holy burden to be present in the Presence for those who could not be there.

My generation has never known what it is to exist without the possibility of death by firearms at school, at the movies.

The inclusion of the Byzantine commemoration in the festivities of the Year of St. Joseph can broaden and deepen contemporary piety around Jesus’ earthly father.

I am alive because a woman spent years watching me emerge from the dead and refused to be afraid. 

In this year, with the pilgrims gone and the holy places nearly empty, I set out to spend some time on the Mount of Olives to see what I can learn from the ancient trees.

Joyce Coleman sings the soul of a community whose faith has been tested by fire across generations, centuries, in this country. To sing such a faith is, for this white Catholic, to be filled with wonder and gratitude—beyond words, beyond speech, beyond concept.