I have spent my entire career attempting to pay homage to (and in a deeper sense, to keep alive) all the incredible characters of my Catholic-kid-in-Las Vegas life.
Angel Garcia tells the story of the Rev. Neil Connolly, a priest with a deep faith in his parishioners, who carried their faith from the mountains of Puerto Rico to the streets of the Bronx.
In his portrait of a once ultra-devout country undergoing rapid spiritual decline, Derek Scally paints a vivid picture of Irish indifference toward the church.
Mark Carney’s new book makes a succinct argument: We can either continue on the current path of what some argue is amoral wealth generation in a dehumanizing market society, or we can build new systems, grounded in common values, that encourage growth while stewarding resources for future generations.
The relationship between dominant and marginalized characters throughout O’Connor’s body of work offers a theology of displacement—that is, a means of experiencing God in the midst of upheaval, geographic and otherwise.
In more than two dozen novels, memoirs, travelogues and other writings, the Massachusetts writer Roland Merullo has proved to be an astute observer of the human condition.
Though a small state in terms of geographic size and population, Mississippi occupies an outsized place in the world of American letters. Why? How has “a little state that rests alongside the banks of a great and mighty river” made so many significant contributions to American literature?
Archbishop Salvatore J. Cordileone of San Francisco is asking “all Catholics and others of goodwill” to join a prayer and fasting campaign for House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, a Catholic Democrat who supports legal abortion.