We cannot help but draw dividing lines, but the Gospel wants us to know that they are our lines, not God’s. They are a consequence of sin’s entrance in the world.

The way to believe in the vision is to immerse ourselves ever more deeply in the life of the vision keeper, the mystery that we call the church.

What grace must come, and by what means, for us to see more of the world as it truly is?

How can you say that you recognize and reverence God if you do not respond to those who stand in want?

Is it possible that people who say that the sacrament is more trouble than it is worth, that they do not need confession, have duped themselves?

Why do we dwell within our protective shells, safe from what might harm us but certainly not fully open to what lies beyond?

The homily should be part of an active relationship between preacher and parish. None of us, speaking or listening, should stop trying to improve the experience.

If you feel a longing for God, take heart. You are alert and ready to receive the bridegroom. If you were not, his absence would not burn.

We are not meant to envy the intimacy or intensity of religious life. We are called to imitate it.

This is the theological virtue we call hope: remaining open to what will come, to whatever God determines. And what that might be, we truly do not know, no matter how certain we might think that we are.