I had been dreaming for some time of a winter wonderland, wrapping myself up in a warm blanket, reading a good book and admiring the snow outside the window, so I accepted the invitation of Brother Wolfgang to visit his abbey in Admont, Austria: the Benedictinerstift Admont. The impressive, fortress

I grew up as the third oldest of six children in a liberal Jewish home. My parents were atheists, and for most of my early life I believed (as did they) in social justice but had no belief in God. Although my life had many ups and downs, nothing could prepare me for the devastation I would feel afte

"Mom, can you and Dad pick up Paul and me?” Our 12-year-old Sean sounded strained and rushed during that surprise Saturday afternoon phone call 17 years ago. “Father Ron’s been acting strange. He wanted to wrestle with Paul and Paul said no, but he tried to do it anyway. And h

The days were lengthening. Daylight itself seemed brighter. The sap was rising in the trees, and with it I felt the wanderlust rising in me.

‘Even before dawn, there is a Mass being celebrated, and pilgrims are already here, kneeling before the space, running their hands over the rock, praying the Rosary and hoping for healing, as they have been doing since 1858.’

Something you don’t hear every day from a Jesuit: I’m here to pick up a cassock for my trip to Lourdes.