Sister Julia Walsh and author Christiana N. Peterson contemplate death, our cultural fear and avoidance of it, and what it looks like to be in a healthy relationship with death. They also discuss grief, mysticism and the saints, the importance of death rituals, and whether rituals are for the dead or those in mourning
I heard the voice of God last night. It came not from my church a few blocks up the road, the historic St. Augustine where Holy Thursday’s Mass of the Last Supper was taking place, but from around the corner. It came from a man sitting on a bench in Tuba Fats Square in theContinue reading ““I thirst,” an invitation to transformation and presence in the midst of COVID-19″
It’s 3 a.m. and the moon is glowing softly through the wide bedroom window. Why am I awake? I look to the side and see that our six-month-old is sleeping soundly. A repetition of the sound that woke me, “Mama!!”, comes from the room across the hall. It’s our three-year-old who, despite a strong, independentContinue reading “‘A bad guy was killing people’: A parent’s response to the nightmare of gun violence”
In the book “A Wrinkle in Time,” Mrs. Whatsit sighs and tells the children, “Explanations are not easy when they are about things for which your civilization still has no words.” Last weekend, the global community of Christian writers quaked in shock as we absorbed the news that the influential author Rachel Held Evans, 37,Continue reading “Explanations are not easy”
What does it mean to be a community of care? How can we deepen in our care for one another in a world so caught up in efficiency and the self-protection of individualism?
In 2002, during the months in which the The Boston Globe released the findings of its investigation into wrong doing on behalf of the Catholic clergy in the Diocese of Boston, I was a high school junior preparing for confirmation. The investigation exposed a widespread pattern of sexual abuse from several Catholic priests, five ofContinue reading “Toward the fire”
Imagine you were violently attacked and dropped off a balcony into a dark alley, and somehow you survived. Your body is broken, bloody, mangled; you are twisted and contorted into a mess upon cracked asphalt. Your arms and legs are shattered. The most private parts of you have been violated. All of your muscles acheContinue reading “Being part of a Church broken by sex abuse and lies”
Like everyone else who understands that the Bible is a book that calls us to love without limit, I am heartbroken by the splitting of families at the U.S./Mexico border.
We arrive at the memorial already soaked. The rain has been pouring down for about an hour, making our one little umbrella woefully insufficient for our entire group. We huddle in the cab, unwilling to take that first step out into the dark, wet city. We are five Catholic sisters from different corners of theContinue reading “We’re standing on holy ground”
Red broth, steaming soup, vegetables just picked, now my lunch; I slurp life in. Phone rings Sister Laura on the line, “Sister Rita is dying. I’ll put the phone to her ear. Say what you’d like. She can’t talk, won’t respond. Say your good-bye.” A pause. My lungs expand, mind races, I search my heartContinue reading “Black cloth”