The cavalier use of racist language in our public discourse, the rise of an emerging nationalism built upon anti-immigrant sentiments and the disdain for people who struggle with poverty, among other sociocultural misfits in our day, demand a communal examination of conscience.

Inaugurations speak to our innate need to start over from time to time, to express new hopes and fears, to realign our priorities and make sure the path we’re walking on is the right one.

In a racially and economically tumultuous year that saw a significant rise in calls for the church to acknowledge and make reparations for its largely unreconciled practices of slavery and segregation, the loss of Sister Reginald, and her expertise in African American Catholic history, was especially wrenching.

The Smolka family explores how favorite Christmas carols stack up.

The Advent season is a reminder that our own childlike faith can hardly imagine what God has in store for us.

As I hold the savior of the world, all tiny and baby bald, smaller than a loaf of bread, I don’t do anything. Nor say anything. Silence is often the best conduit of God.

The author of the Letter to the Hebrews wrote, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us while keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, the leader and perfecter […]

For me, patience and promise summarize the season of autumn, the term I prefer to fall, since it connotes a year’s “passing” rather than its “decline.” It’s a season I have long regarded with both joy and sadness.

Gossip may be shared between two people, let’s say by a tweet and reply or a Facebook post on another person’s wall, but it is shared with the knowledge that both parties’ followers will see it. What is most pernicious is that it’s often shared not in spite of that knowledge but because of it.

Hope is the courageous work of waiting for the solution, for things to get better.