Most days, I start my day with a morning walk, and as I walk, I usually work through this reflection. It’s a nice way to focus my attention outside myself, to remember and pray for those around me, to foster joy and gratitude, and to look for where God is active in my life.
I really like “Gender, Sex, and Other Nonsense,” an essay by Daniel Walden back in the March issue of Commonweal. It’s a beautiful, Catholic piece of writing about transness and self-narratives.
I do not identify as spiritual but not religious. I do think organized religion is the most valuable means of furthering spiritual growth. For me, however, the problem comes in the next step: which religion?
I want to share two of my favorite set prayers. One comes from the Baha’i Faith, and the other is my reinterpretation of it.
About two years ago, I ended up accompanying a friend of mine to the hospital. Once the paramedics showed up, there really wasn’t anything for me to do other than hang around, wait, and pray.
As we exist in the space of the Resurrection, how can we notice small revivals in our every day surroundings?
Many of our physical spaces of worship are closed to us during this season of Lent. What can we do to be together in this time of isolation?
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was in the fitness version of a non-denominational church.
Once my JV year ended, I found unexpected reinforcements of the prayer that Christ has no hands but mine. Good can be done, if I do something about it with my very hands.
It’s painful to think back on all the people I’ve loved and lost touch with, but it’s important that I do this, that we do this. All these people were important pieces of the social fabric of my life.
Reflecting a year removed from a retreat I took myself on, I ponder what it looks like to create retreats for myself in “the real world” and how I can use my natural gifts to enter more deeply into relationship with God, myself, and the world.
Right now, in Xinjiang, China’s far western province, roughly one million people are being detained in extralegal internment camps (the state calls them “re-education centers”). Those detained are mostly Uyghers, a mostly-Muslim Turkic ethnic group.
My experiment in regaining a sense of curiosity, creativity, and playfulness not just in the times I set aside to indulge my wannabe artist but, in my life overall.
I love the imagery and symbolism of pregnancy and birth during this time of Advent, because it is so rich with meanings and also of course because I love accompanying women as they prepare and work to bring new life into the world.
Is it ethical for us to enjoy listening to music from artists who have displayed harmful and oppressive behavior? Should we separate the artist from the art?
The Ruined Report 