The heart of St. Roque lay in the display case in front of me. It still held the power of life and evangelization, announcing its presence at the very moment when I most needed faith and consolation.

When I worked for U.S.A.I.D., I was not a churchgoer, but the moral vision was clear: We Americans, in our affluence, must reach out to those in need with generosity.

Taking antidepressants doesn’t mean you trust God less.

Without the innkeeper, the parable of the Good Samaritan falls apart and the good deed falls short.

I am a woman at war within myself, in sight of two well-armed realities, my faith life suspended in the center. I think of the two sides of this spiritual DMZ as Creed and Culture.

Epiphany has come and gone. But this year, it struck me for the first time that the feast we celebrate is actually composed of several epiphanies—and that comes as something of a relief.