Many artists and writers, not necessarily religious, speak of the influence of religious language on their work.
Msgr. Carlos Manuel de Céspedes y García-Menocal, faithful priest, seminary rector, and prolific writer who died January 3, was also a great Cuban patriot.
I have been rerouted from my natural course toward death. It feels wrong.
One day in elementary school a boy on the playground punched a nun in the belly. His name was Billy and her name was Marie. It was an accident.
The single piece of evidence in what may be the St. Louis Police Department’s oldest unsolved mystery is a stunning drawing of the crucifixion.
We moderns pay advanced planning counselors to avoid the fate of St. John of the Cross and to get us to our burial on time, but can we ever be sure it will work out?
When I searched the web for “Catholic, Shanghai,” the first thing that came up was an article, “Shanghai’s Catholic Church in Disarray.”
No doubt about it. There was the trout stream. These were the woods. And that was a hymn where no hymn should be.
In manipulating a mouse’s memory so that it recalls being shocked in a spot where it wasn’t, science has opened the door to the eventual recreation of our pasts.
Salah sets down three rocks, in the center of which he places dried bush branches and lights a fire. This is the hospitality of the desert.
Devotion to one’s parish continues to be a prime marker of Catholic identity.