It is always a losing game to chase a simply stated lifestyle. Life is not simple. Life cannot be organized.

Thirty-four years ago I held my child, my 22-month-old son, cradling him in my arms as I watched the last flicker of his life ebb away.

After a visit to Christ in the Desert, I knew it was not the monks whose lifestyle I should question.

Christmas and Hanukkah share much more than the giving of gifts.

Healing for my baby daughter was the hardest thing to ask for. I was afraid of false hope.

“I’ve joked with friends: I’ll come back to the church when it restores the old Mass—celebrated by women priests.”